Poetry & Prose
With my pen and paper I shall endeavor to describe . . .
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| The broncs and the bulls are calling his name memories fade to riding the range. The cowboy now broken the rodeo clown, the fire that burns won=t let him down. To the arena he=s summoned by the call of the wild the desire within him to tame and to ride. To conquer the beast by nature his foe bucking him high then pitching him low. To earn his respect him he must ride the bronc and the cowboy then stand with pride, together a union on each they depend the meaning of cowboy is companion and friend. |
I didn't pray hard enough! I didn't pray the right way! I didn't pray for the right thing!
It's all my fault! I=m not good enough! I'm not a good enough Christian. My fault,
mine, mine mine . . . I sobbed into the long green grass of summer. Tears
streamed down my face, not just a trickle, but cascades of salty brine. Wave
upon wave of self defeating thoughts pierced by grief splashed within my mind.
The impact of each making me rock like a ship at sea, back and forth with a
rhythm so eerie, I could feel the fog of the coast invading my mind. I call this the
prelude to the dance of death.
Years later my prayers are still crisp in my mind. Thank you Father for saving my
brother . . . Years later, bitter sweet tears still fall when I think of him, his life, my
memories, that day. Anger, fear, resentment, sadness, sorrow the torrential
down pour that lashed out at the world and at God. His incomprehensible love
still amazes me. How he could still love me after all I have done and said is a
mystery. But, I know that he does. I know that He does, its just the why that
escapes me.
I watched my world tear piece by piece. I could hear the sorrow in my mother=s
voice, see the sadness in the whole of my father. Never had I seen this strong
man appear so frail. The news came quite unexpectedly which puts grief into a
totally different spin, and his age. He was much too young to die. We were all
dancing separately but for the same reason and to the same tune.
It's all my fault! I=m not good enough! I'm not a good enough Christian. My fault,
mine, mine mine . . . I sobbed into the long green grass of summer. Tears
streamed down my face, not just a trickle, but cascades of salty brine. Wave
upon wave of self defeating thoughts pierced by grief splashed within my mind.
The impact of each making me rock like a ship at sea, back and forth with a
rhythm so eerie, I could feel the fog of the coast invading my mind. I call this the
prelude to the dance of death.
Years later my prayers are still crisp in my mind. Thank you Father for saving my
brother . . . Years later, bitter sweet tears still fall when I think of him, his life, my
memories, that day. Anger, fear, resentment, sadness, sorrow the torrential
down pour that lashed out at the world and at God. His incomprehensible love
still amazes me. How he could still love me after all I have done and said is a
mystery. But, I know that he does. I know that He does, its just the why that
escapes me.
I watched my world tear piece by piece. I could hear the sorrow in my mother=s
voice, see the sadness in the whole of my father. Never had I seen this strong
man appear so frail. The news came quite unexpectedly which puts grief into a
totally different spin, and his age. He was much too young to die. We were all
dancing separately but for the same reason and to the same tune.
| A HEAVENLY REPRIEVE Montie Ray McMickell Born April 22, 1958 Died August 23, 1995 Beloved brother and faithful friend I'm looking forward to the day we meet again. A soul ascended to heaven the angels cheered in mirth truly a prince among men tears were shed on earth. I cried to God. Tell me why! My pain almost too great to bare. A man so great should have to die? God whispered. I needed him here. But God, you don't understand the great loss! Why did his death have to come? My child I do know the pain of the cross in the death of my only begotten Son. But God, I said. He wasn't through. I'm not ready for him to be gone. And Lord, he had many things he wanted to do. The Lord whispered. Things to do at home. Still unrelenting I pleaded my case. But he means so much to me. God, can't someone else take his place? But He whispered. What is will be. But God. . . I didn't get to say good bye. He needs to know how much he is loved! My dear child he sees you cry for he's looking down from above. But God, can't we talk but a brief moment to hear his voice once more. I heard a sigh, but no comment as He opened a momentary door. Then I heard a familiar voice whispering to my heart. Do not cry, with the angels rejoice. From you I will never part. Do you know that I love you ..... what you mean to me? This nightmare just can't be true it has destroyed my reality. He whispered so warm and low I could almost see his smirk. Your love and pain and faith I know and time will eventually ease the hurt. But I miss you! My heart aches when I think of all that was you. But oh the happiness I take in knowing my mission is through. You worked so hard to fulfill your goal and hadn't finished it yet. But oh the pleasure yet untold when God=s goals have been met. I tried to argue, but couldn't go on. And he spoke as my words he knew. I'll be waiting when you are called home. Till then I live in the memories of you. Dry your eyes. Do not weep. For I know what you feel in your heart. Never loose faith, for not even death could ever keep us apart. In silence I heard the door close. I knew the conversation was at its end and out of that silence God's voice rose. My daughter, you will see him again. I love you Montie, Squeak |
Stay tuned more to come . . .
| And What of It? One day while talking to friend about the souls of others, the question of my Christianity arose. And what of it! I thought as I defended myself to him. What of it?! I said as the anger grew from my chest. What right do you have to judge me? Is there nothing in your life, within you, that need to change? That need to grow? I am perfectly fine. I am right with God. And what of it. It is between God and me. Not you. My friend in his grace pushed further. What of it. He said. That is what I am trying to ascertain. We speak of the Lord and I can see within you a light trying to shine, but it only flickers. It is as if this light is being blown about, flickering in the breath of a child who is so anxious for it to be dowsed that he cannot control his own breath. The candle so consumed with flame and life is fighting just a shard to remain lit. I can see this light within you trying to remain lit when you are talking about others who do not have faith, who are not committed to Christ, who have not accepted Him as their Savior. It is trying to stay aflame, but something within you is wanting just as much for the darkness to abide. And when you speak of your own salvation, when you do not turn the conversation elsewhere, your eyes become black as coal. As dark and cold as the burial tomb of Christ. But you . . . I began to protest. My anger with him flushed my face. He didn't back down. But I . . . He said. AI am not perfect, nor do I claim to be. That burden was placed with one being. The ONLY being who could have attained that perfection. Christ. And through Him I am forgiven of all my imperfections. He is the bread that nourishes me and the water that quenches my thirst. I am not trying to judge you. I have no right. I do not hold an accountable record of you. I am simply loving you. And in this love I am asking. Are you hungry? Do you have thirst my friend? If not, let us rejoice together and testify of our great love and acceptance of Christ. Together let our lights shine and not be dowsed. But if you are hungry, thirsty, and tired, let us go together to the house of our Father and be rested and nourished. Our Father knows all that is needed and is waiting to nourish and comfort us if we only ask. The anger had subsided and there in its place was a need, a hurt so strong that I never thought that I could rid myself of it. My mouth so dry that the Sahara became an oasis and my hunger so deep that not a summer=s harvest could feed it. I looked at him and there in his eyes was a light of 10,000 candles burning through his eyes! He was looking right through me. Right through the wall that I had built between myself and God, looking into eternity with the love of Christ. I had not realized, to this point, the great love that Christ had placed in him. I looked within my self and my life and realized that my life had become a justification of worldly possessions, and that in speaking of others need for Christ in their lives, I was trying to deny the fact that I was not walking with my Lord and needed Christ in my own life. In his comforting arms of friendship he guided me to a place in my heart where I could be reunited with my Savior and there we rested, ate and drank. Now, when I speak to someone of their life in Christ I do not forget to look for the light from within myself to see if it is flickering. In everyone=s life, whether you have accepted Christ as your personal Savior or not, there always comes a time when you are tired, hungry, and thirsty. What of it my friend, what of it? |
| Praise the Lord Old King David liked to dance to sing and play the leer. Why then when we want to move do the staunch thinks it so queer? Biblically I have yet to find what is wrong with an upbeat tune and even those who disagree? Their proof has not festooned. I just don't seem to understand I am glad God came into my life! Why would I sing mournful songs when soon I will be His wife. Make a joyful noise unto the Lord to me does not sound sedate at all. So why when the tempo is up do some try to climb the wall? To sing of great thanksgiving to praise Him loud and long could never be disrespectful so please pardon me as I go on. Dance because the Spirit moves. Shout a victory! Loving God is grand not sad! Relish your testimony. |
| UNDENIABLE The fact is undeniable that all people are liable for the dreams that they pursue. And the presence of your action that defines what you believe is true. The goal you set in life and the pain which causes strife creates the inner you. You are a complex mixture and not an earthly fixture there are no equal two. Each person is different none being omnipotent. The difference the values each ensue. One may be defiant to never be reliant upon what someone else will do. Another may be dependant and need his own attendant to see his problems through. And not one is superior or anyone inferior. What you are is is you. |
| The great I Am He said, I am the way, the truth and the light; no one gets to the Father except through Me. The Great I Am what else could He be. The Word, the Light, the Good Shepherd. I am. I am. Is all that is heard. What could describe such amazing grace the sacrifice only He could face. The Son of God the Savior of man it is all stated in The Great I Am. |