Sunday Reflection

Beside the enormity of evil
words pale,
dwarfed
by that which leers
and laughs
at them,
assuring their authors
that no one,
no one,
will ever
believe them. 
In this way,
evil often becomes
fiction.  

Prayers,
prayers . . . 
in such cases, perhaps only
prayers
will do.

Nature's Watch

Nature has her secrets:

Surely earth remembers well

where flowers sunned and children played,

where sweethearts kissed -- don't tell!

Nature has her cautions,

knows the gentle from the bad;

she flinches from the rough impulse --

the saint's touch makes her glad.

When Evil walks through Nature,

the buzzing air goes "hush" and still,

till you can hear a pin drop --

and if you don't, Evil will.

Nature writes this in her book

of blessed and ruined land,

begging God's protection --

thorough cleansing from His Hand.

The Free

Fragile, so fragile

are butterfly's wings!

Of Love's tender freedom

they airily sing,

eluding capture by the

coarsened hand --

Beauty resisting beast's

jealous command. 

The Real

Edges rubbing, grinding raw

More ragged abrasions than eye ever saw

Soul bruising soul even when unintended

The spiritual crashing through fences unmended

The battle plays out on unseen ground

Onslaught relentless, no rest to be found

Wounds gaping wide as blood and tears mingle

Winds so biting, the extremities tingle

This -- the landscape no eye can behold:

Spiritual warfare, losses untold.

The Precious

Butterfly, flee --

escape the net

of those who would dissect you

without regret.