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Poem

Entire brigades of verses
traipse back and forth, word by word
in the theater of my mind.
They wait this captain’s orders
to pass the roll call of muster.

Each lettered soldier carries
weighty weapons of great strength.
I choose my warriors cautiously
and grapple with revisions
required before the final draft.

Comes the posting of my piece
on the reader’s battleground
where winning means transporting thought.
Oh to translate for my troops
but my campaign's not on that field.

                      # # #

Consider those grave captains
who recorded God’s own words.
Holy, treasured inspiration
flowed from His Spirit to theirs
shielding, steering His message home.

When I read King David’s psalms
or epistles from St. Paul
that same Spirit guides my thinking
an epiphany occurs –
I hear the very voice of God.



January 3, 2011

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