Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash, for the Day 8 prompt. --- With bowed heads and clasped hands we come In quiet supplication, knees bowed, flesh unstrung- Hearts humbled, at the feet of the priest For bread broken. Blessed. Becoming crackling body And wine. Slipped into silver urn. Spilt blood. Divine liquid. Pange, lingua, gloriósi Córporis mystérium, Sanguinísque pretiósi,
My father looms Like a colossus in my mind His voice, tinged with righteous anger The lyric of my powerless youth But now in my season of adulthood, I see him as he is, A man who tried his very best But was human too.
For the ones the genes took. Photo by Wendy Scofield on Unsplash. We prayed the Jinns would not take you That when the dust from your fighting feet, and the chill of the terror of the night would lift you would return in peace. With our knees we ground a hole into the ground from constant supplication, in hope that you would be whole again but the genes would not let up ...
Image from Great Inspire, for the Day 5 prompt, only partially fulfilled. --- Come let us dance our discordant thoughts to calmness, joined by the rhythm of our joyful hearts, and a song welling up from deep within. Like a bird loosed from the tenuous grasp of gravity’s hold, let us float away. With the spring of defiant Freedom in our steps.
For the Day 4 Prompt, a challenge to describe an abstraction with concrete nouns. Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash --- What it is is something smouldering A tiny reed, slowly taking flame That perchance with time might Burst into a raging flame What it is is a call and response A place remembered and returned to In a season of despair In its light one sees the self in all its glory warts and all, and learns the painful truth that one is human too
For the Day 3 prompt, A list poem of band names. I fear my choices betray my age (and my penchant for Christian Contemporary Music). Photo by frankie cordoba on Unsplash. --- Six Pence None The Richer for you corrodes my conformity into discordant notes. On Black Street s, six degrees north of Building 429 a Rush Of Fools Switches foot and stops to breathe again. DC Talks to the Newsboys Ignoring Caedmon’s Call Until the Third Day when the Second Chapter Of Acts is unleashed.
Snowed in, somewhat. For the Day 2 prompt. I ache in the winter when it rains. When the wind, like the fingers of a malevolent one probe beneath. Deep down in a place sometimes lost where memories once lived, lies the linger of disquiet.For forgetting. Some days the smell of fresh wood wafts in, borne as though on wings of the wind. Then, these bones - aching in the cold - rejoice.
Off prompt for Day 1, Photo by Francesco Gallarotti on Unsplash --- Let us begin again at dawn. With the stirring songs of the Skylarks ringing in our ears, the dappled light of the rising sun, smell of moist earth and the distant lap of a gentle wave calling us. In the shadows of the stations, along this winding tortuous path we have climbed this mount, where like a seed once dead is reborn, we arise again.