Thursday, March 1, 2012

Bring the boy hither

                                                                  Shoulders hunched
Brow furrowed    
fists clinched
  he settles into the haunch's of the night
 and waits,
waits for the uninvited eddy of emotions to gain momentum,
a swirling descent into despair, 
  waits for the waves of inebriation to wash over him,
              to deliver the escape he yearns for.
             Unsure, now, whether in the body or out, 
 the fog slowly settles in.
 But his spirit won't sleep.  
                A deep guttural growl escapes from the canyons of his soul,
  and echoes
 in a heart bruised
 against the perpetual pursuit of relief. 
He bellows,
                                                                "Why Lord, why me?"
                                                                     And like a tsunami
                                                            without a shore to tide it's strength,
                                                                   the reply returns,
                                                 hurling sand and surf into his brokenness;
                                                                  "Why NOT you?"
                                                                             (L. Paddock)

And the Lord said unto Satan,
Hast thou considered my servant Job?

Suffice it to be for now!
             Matt-- 3:15

Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
you preserve my life;
You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes,
with your right hand you save me.
          Psalm-- 138:7

Title, mark 9:19