Poems

The sword is indeed mighty. Wielded by Christ's warriors it separates swiftly the false from the true, the mask from the man as Jesus did.

I first noticed it shortly before the clocks changed for the beginning of summer. How the darkness tried vainly to cling to bush tree house hill.

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I thought this was my beginning: just a surname the same as my father, whom I never knew— a name without a face. Then: I heard of another— my Father-Mother God, who fills all space, who is unconditional Love! Yet still I saw no face.

Clinging with ancient strength— gossamer webs in small corners of thought—cloth and napkin claim man's obedience. The Christ commands, "Loose him, and let him go," dissolving error's strong hold, and lifting thought to know man's obedience to God.

Is fear deep-rooted? The depth of Love uproots it. Injustice widespread? The breadth of Love outflanks it.

In my Father's eyes I am free From false claims Of mortality. As the offspring of Spirit I am spiritual.

"I will restore to you              the years that the locust                          hath eaten. " Joel 2:25.

"Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart. " Ps.

There's a holy presence in this house, No empty space to fear. There's a gentle presence in this house Of all that I hold dear.