A few weeks back Deborah Farris wrote these words in a post called “Waiting for the Call (Back)“:
“It’s the unknown that always undoes me. But it’s the Unseen that holds me together. And that week, the Unseen was at work. I was loved back into the Light.”
Sometimes words and ideas get stuck inside this heart and head of mine and can’t get unstuck until they find their way through my fingers and out into a word processor. That’s what happened after I read what Deborah had written. In this case, the typing that ensued ended up taking the form of a poem. Thanks, Deborah, for the spark for this one. And thanks to all of those of you who actually make it to the end of this rather long poem!
All pretense he could not preserve.
Long waiting weathered his last nerve
To dust and in the fog he groped,
Thick fog, depleting his reserve
Of confidence that he could hope
In brighter days ahead. Unknown
Was his path’s every step. To cope
With such a prospect all alone
Was far too burdensome a load,
And so he flailed beneath the drone
Of whisperings the devil sewed
Into his heart. He felt adrift.
Within his soul the rafters bowed
Beneath the weight. The walls did shift
And warn with creaks their sure demise.
Foundations cracked, and ran a rift
Clear through him. With anguished cries
He pled for something sure. Deferred
Responses ate him, were like skies
Of ceaseless fog! Had God not heard?
Perhaps not, busy or delayed,
And so God answered not a word—
No shining ray or voice that bade
The fog be gone, dispelled, fear quelled,
All hope reduced to mere charade.
The man’s desire for earthquakes swelled.
That God would speak through wind or fire!
Yet God in them was not compelled
To speak to him, though he inquire
With tears. Then came to him a broad,
Low whispering that would require
The silence of a silent God
For any man to hear. It rose
Like morning dew off sun-warmed sod,
Most imperceptible, and chose
To hang in fog’s dark air unseen
And silent. It didn’t disclose
Itself or try to intervene
Or clear away the fog. Instead
It merely whispered soft, serene,
Consistent words to so embed
Them on the man’s benighted mind.
As slow as snails grows hope from dread.
And there amid the fog the blind
Man saw, although the fog remained.
His sight was of a different kind.
Through heart-lit eyes he ascertained
That something solid, something sure
Held fast beneath his feet, maintained
Him in the fog and could assure
Him though his blind eyes never know
The light of day. He could endure
The dark if whispers e’er did flow
From just beyond the fog to where
He stood. Their words? “Fallow
Remain your fields for now, and tear
Your heart the weights of longed-for sight.
I see, I know, and still declare
That though you walk this life in night,
A dawn awaits you just beyond
That last horizon. You’ll take flight
And burst above the fog, and donned
With wings eternal you will run.
That day to you will correspond
Unbounded hope beneath a sun
That never will be clouded. Mine
You’ll be in glory.” “I don’t shun
Such hope, great God, nor dare define
Your ways for me,” he, weeping, said.
“If I may ask, give me a sign
That stretches back from up ahead
And touches me right now, today,
Where this heart, sprawled in dread,
Wilts, shrivels, dies, for what you say
Of future hope feels far removed,
Unable to cut through this gray
And strangling fog.” So being moved
At his dear child’s plea, God spoke
Again, “My son, my love’s behooved
My hand to reach down, clear the smoke
That fills your heart though fog remains
Across your eyes. I will invoke
My solemn name and break the chains
That bind your unbelieving heart.
Instead of slavery that now constrains
You to but tremble in the dark,
I’ll free you with a surer word,
And I will finish what I start.
My word? It is a word you’ve heard
Yet not till now, perhaps, have felt.”
And something in the man was stirred,
Yet he did not know what. He knelt
In dust and ashes. “Speak, my Lord,”
He said, and God stooped down to melt
His shackles, calm the sea that roared
Within. A fervent utterance
Formed on God’s lips and downward soared
In light. “I am the God who grants
My steadfast approval to all
Who know my name. I’m he who plants
Eternal love in those who call
On me as Father. I love you,
Dear one. Though now through night you crawl,
Hear my word, unfaltering, true,
My love will lead you to the light,
Will never falter, bring you through,
And hold your trembling hand as tight
As mothers hold their children.” Wide
As was the proclamation, night
Remained around the man. The tide
Still flowed against him. Nothing changed,
Or so it seemed. He looked. He sighed.
And then, as flowers bloom, a strange
Assurance blossomed in his soul,
As if the sand had been exchanged
For solid ground. Unsure, he stole
A glance around him. “All for naught!”
He cried, and yet, did roll
Again the Father’s word, “I bought
You. I will never leave you spurned.”
And then he saw the light he’d sought
For so long now within him burned,
The light of God, a Father’s love,
Love bestowed and never earned.
With such a confidence above,
Below, around, the walls stood still,
Foundations quieted. Thereof
The creaking rafters, once so shrill
In their complaints, stopped fast their bowing,
And peace welled up, began to spill
Into the swirling fog. And knowing
The Father loved him, he stopped, wept,
Not from despair this time but owing
To newfound hope. Before he’d slept,
But now his heart had stirred, awoke,
And finally realized God kept
Him always. Far from some cruel joke,
This tiny, inward light would lead
Him to glory land, for God spoke,
And when he did, he was found freed
And finally felt what he had strained
In darkness so to find, decreed
By God himself he would, though pained
Would be the wait. This love on high
That burned within, now sustained
Him, from this moment would supply
The light to lead him to the Light,
The one the angels glorify,
Who stands beside the hearts contrite
And broken. One day all that’s gray
Will shatter at the untold might
Of God. Until then he’ll display
His love in hidden ways and keep
His own until the end. Delay
He knows not. Though his dear ones weep,
His love will guide his every sheep.