With a Storm

September 4, 2020September 4, 2020 / joethewaller / Leave a comment

How do you respond
     (w)hen t(h)e w(i)nd (s)hakes your tem(p)orary dwelling?
     when the thund(e)r b(r)eaks your sense of calm?

     (w)hen t(h)e l(i)ghtning (s)trikes your storehouses?
     when all around you is (p)urifying floodwat(e)r and fi(r)e
          life-giving,
          all-consuming?

What do you do
     when the Father answers your prayers with a storm
          and a whisper?

Do you run away?
Where else would you go?

There is a response
     when the w(i)nd sh(a)kes your te(m)porary dwelling.
     when the thunder (b)reaks your sens(e) of calm.
     
     when the lightning (s)trikes your storehouses.
     when all around you is purifying floodwa(t)er and f(i)re,
          (l)ife-giving,
          a(l)l-consuming.

This poem would not be what it is today without the contributions of Andrew Wilson. He helped with both the structure and the content, improving the rough draft immeasurably and guiding the poem to its final form. I’m incredibly grateful for his feedback.

Photo by Victor Rodriguez on Unsplash

Sadness is a growing thing

July 10, 2020July 10, 2020 / joethewaller / 1 Comment

Sadness is a growing thing.
     It is watered by frustrated plans,
          fed by unfulfilled affections,
          lengthened by loss.
Sadness is a subtle thing.
     Unchecked, it soon can choke
          life and love and laughter
               as grief sours and
                    breeds bitterness.
Sadness is a frail thing.
     It breaks open and spills out
          unexpectedly
          at the slightest touch.
Sadness is a fleeting thing,
     a fading thing.
     It is disarmed by a deeper truth,
          held in perspective by purpose,
          and will be redeemed
               at the coming of the one
               whose love was never lost.
     He will wipe away every tear.