Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

If I’m to follow Jesus, then his cross
is more than jewelry, his crucifix
is more than pious home décor, his loss
is permanent— and all my parlor tricks
that speed to butterflies and empty tombs
are ideologies— idolatries—
of glory when his execution looms,
as mine would loom, in breath’s commending wheeze
unto the waiting hands of faith unproved
(and trusted nonetheless). So suffer me
to understand that this is what I’ve loved:
excruciation, love’s own brevity—
so why would it amaze me, when the dirt
receives my blood, that killing me would hurt?

-every soldier knows,
God don't go into foxholes.
He wasn't there
when his son died on a fence pole.


Thanks for the welcoming!

...This is so beautiful, it's made me cry...

I need to read more of your excellent work. I write differently, but admire your way with words and sounds and images.

So suffer me
to understand that this is what I’ve loved:
excruciation, love’s own brevity—
so why would it amaze me, when the dirt
receives my blood, that killing me would hurt?

( These are lines to remember)