Sunday, April 2, 2017

Sunday Poem

The Pattern of this World

Romans 12: 1-2  Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.


She lie wasted and hollow eyed and thin
A skeleton hung with threadbare robes of skin
The CT scan showed free air, extravasation
I rushed in, found her swallowed by sheets and blankets
Alone, shivering, at the last way station


She showed me the spot where it hurt
And I found the other places, here, and over there.
She grimaced as her abdomen stiffened
And then smiled, as if to apologize, a soul imprisoned---
Anorexia, drug abuse, years of imperfect will


Later on she lie splayed on the OR table arms extended
As if an offering on a cross, a life expended.
The hard lights shined truth on her naked flesh
The tattooed verse etched in Olde English across her pale chest


Her bowels were limp and gray and lifeless
Like the newspaper left out in a rainstorm
The words smeared and meaningless.
Handle gently, all falls apart; words, world, body---
The patterns lose form

4/2/17

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