Rick and Monique

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Memories

I wrote about RAGBRAI last month and have oft attempted to explain to myself the majesty of God in all things. I was at times in great pain, disillusioned and tired. I was panting for relief and striving for reprieve. Spasms would rack my body, or my back would become weak or my feet would go numb. It seemed to encompass the entirety of the years behind me. Of course, other times I was great and fast and completely entranced by this event. The reason to finish the race is always before us. But along the way, God shows you glory as one is sometimes being refined by trial and fire. So, I wrote about it and thought I would share today.

WHETTED

I have sailed the great highway
which trembles beneath
All that God has put before me.

Pinions of effort and triumph
Of dubious pain and striving
Of songs in spellbound
company with my heart.

I have seen the white sun
turned to gold by hours
I have seen the music of fog swaying
to the rhythm Of wildflowers, wind and sun

I have seen the matron dew proffer
her benefit softly under the red skirt of sunrise,
turning feral field jade and vibrant.

I have seen the hills rise up
To the morning trumpeted
By voice and tongue and breath.

I have seen leaf bent in homage
To current and branches
like fingers Tickled by wing.

I have seen fields of alfalfa
Lying in patient wait for her harvest
I have known the gentle brook
Rippled and peaceful bastions of inspiration.

I have seen geese suspended
Pulling and drafting In assignment
known to them Milleniums before
man took flight In air or on road.

I have seen all things wild
Archbishops of the trees
And tenders of the field
And Guardians of the Sky.

Whir of tire and curling current
Efficient and tireless
And I turn my eyes to the golden wake
Where they are in commission
unfettered and undisturbed.

I have seen unregulated sky
Vastly uninterested in accomplishment
And yet I strive to dance amongst it’s power.

I have see the hills rise up to meet me
Where steeples reach like fingers
pointed toward heaven.

And I am whetted for the house of God


A poem by rje, 7/30/07

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