Desolation and Consolation

The syllables slipped out and fell

through the whispering realms,

making a gash in the side of hope

and wounding the heart of love.


It continued to wind its way past

whitened wintry fields of wisdom,

and flew innocent as thistledown

crushing the cry of community.


It held children in evil places,

laughed at the lament from women,

broke the backs of slaves and 

dealt out desolate despondency.


It whispered its name in the media

and grew in importance and power,

shoving the shepherdless before it

and hushing the reading of reason


It spake:


i am the way and my lies are truth

i offer to you an oppressive poverty,

if only you will give me your ear

and then  give me your vote.


The word echoed through the 

spreading universe, gliding

the flowing planets in

living light and rainbow hues.


It continued to gently touch

the rocky residues with rain

and gave life, amazing life,

abundant life, awesome life.


It whispered through the beauty, 

giving hope and sang through

the myriad choices of love,

sowing seeds awakening souls.


It became he and walked where

it was hard and stony and 

spoke, ‘I am because you are,”

holding them together in him.


An innocent word of life was

crucified, hung out to die, yet

the word broke from death, dancing

a harbinger of hope and love and light.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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