The Light from Behind My Grandma's Door

My grandma was the godliest person I know. Every day, she would get up super early in the morning (while it's still dark) to pray and worship the Lord to begin the day. Every evening, she would stay up way late to do it again to end the day. I'm convinced that her time with the Lord were two-way conversations. In fact, I'm sure it was her prayers that caused God to hold an umbrella of protection over our family. I remember when I was really little, I was afraid of the dark. My mom would keep the light on until I had fallen asleep. However, there would be times when I would wake up during the night. Luckily, my grandma's light would be on as she prays for the family and I would fall asleep in the comfort of her light. God, I miss her since she'd passed away. So, here's one for you, grandma:

The Light from Behind My Grandma's Door

The Light spills into the night,

From behind my grandma's door.

Its glow scatters the shadows

Upon the living room floor.

Her prayers climb up Jacob's stairs,

Up beyond the evening sky,

To where the Light shines, through the night.

Her songs take me to where I belong,

In His sight.

Keep the Light burning in my heart.

Keep her life's yearning in my heart.

A Chest of Hope and A Chest of Burden

As a single person, I'm never comfortable about giving marriage advice to friends. But sometimes, it's hard keep silent as I watch a relationship blows apart. So I wrote the following for a very special couple.

A Chest of Hope and A Chest of Burden

A chest of hope and a chest of burden

Are the same chest then and now.

The same package with the same contents,

Through the years, has changed somehow.

A gift from God to a parcel from hell,

How quickly their views have turned.

They wanted true love and intimacy,

But freedom their hearts now yearn.

When and how did the load become heavy?

Were more added in the night?

Who was responsible? Was it he or was it she?

Now, begins the final fight.

He lifts his end of the load higher,

Shifting the weight towards her.

She lifts her end of the load higher,

Beyond the point they once were.

How will the story end?  I don't know.

Where do relationships land?

Will they return the load to where it belongs,

In the Father's secure hand?

A chest of hope and a chest of burden

Are the same chest then and now.

The difference is who supports the weight.

The question is who not how.

The same package with the same contents,

Through the years, has changed somehow.

Battlestar Galactica 16GB Zune Giveaway Contest Poem

CNET.Com is giving away one special Battlestar Galactica edition of the Microsoft 16GB Zune to a randomly selected contest entry. To enter, one only has to post a comment at: http://news.cnet.com/8301-17938_105-10231021-1.html

For my entry, I entered the following:

Please, give me the Battlestar Galactica Zune.

Oh, please, please, send it to me really soon.

On it, I'll play songs in which Sinatra and Bennett croon.

Then, beautiful women would flock to me and swoon.

LOL!

The Testimony

I've been searching for the answer,

Since my fading days of youth.

What is wrong and what is right

And what is the truth?

Does it really matter,

In God's universal plan?

If I were to disappear,

Would He miss a grain of sand?

Would He look for me?

He's been waiting for my answer,

Since He made me in His hand.

Would I choose to follow Him

And would I make a stand?

Would I see His love for me

And would I really care?

Would I run into His arm,

If I saw Him standing there?

Would I recognize Him?

So He came down to look for me,

Shed his majesty and power.

And died on the wooden cross,

On the appointed hour.

When I saw the Son who died for me

To bear my sin and shame.

I chose to follow Him

And bear his holy name.

He came to look for me.

Back Alley Stray

She's a back alley stray

Kicked too many times.

She was fed every day

Broken promises and rhymes.

She no longer trusts that love would stay.

When I reach out to her

She instinctively flinches.

Afraid of what will reoccur,

Her right fist clinches.

She's not comforted by anything I say.

Haiku Poetry

One of my on-line friends posted instructions on writing Haiku poetry. I took it as a challenge. So... here it is:

Haiku poetry,

That strange Japanese art form,

Confines my writing.

Verbal symmetry

Forces my words to conform,

Substance / form fighting.

Distorted Vision

Two months ago, I went to the doctor because of a headache that wouldn't go away. After extensive testing, I was diagnosed with cataract.  Evidently, my brain was detecting vision changes before I realized that my sight was impaired.

The doctor told me that, although cataract is usually the result of aging, occasionally, young people get it. After doing some research on the topic, I found out that cataract is caused by overexposure to ultraviolet light and other electro-magnetic waves in that frequency spectrum.

In my case, I suspect that I've spent too much time in the sun without sunglasses and too much time working with microwave transmitters and receivers.

They've scheduled my eye surgery in October and in November.

In the past two weeks, the degradation of my eye sight has accelerated. Now, I can see that my vision is bad. Everything is a bit foggy and none of the colors are quite right. During the night time, I see halos around light sources (lamps, street lights, etc.).

I'm starting to wonder if what I ever saw was ever what it really was. What are the consequences of my misperceptions?  How can I make the right choices if I can not see the choices for what they are?

My eyes can not be trusted to be true.

My heart is colored by shades of grey.

I question the beauties that I pursue

And question the price that I'm willing to pay.

What must I do to discern

Which colors in my pallet are askew?

How many times must the color wheel turn

Before I can see the truth comes through.