Sunday, August 24, 2008

Two Poem Drafts


Even on this desert planet
water can be found,
dew in secret places,
little pools by sheltering rocks;
but the air is hot and dry
with stormy clouds of dust :
there are endless realms of sand
where the hardy die of thirst.

But I have had a dream
that this desert became a beach.
Mist was in the air,
and great oceans of philosophy
broke against the shore.

Blessed Is the Blood Now Bled

Blessed is the blood now bled
from down the thorn-encircled head,
from out the spear-intruded side,
upon the cross where Christ has died.

Blessed is the holy Name
that lives from age to age the same,
that bled upon the unjust cross
and drew just blessing from the loss.

Blessed are the tears of grace
that flow down from Christ's own face,
with health of mind and depth of heart
that never shirks the servant's part.

Blessed is the open tomb
which angels herald as the womb
from whence the Lord of life speeds true
to make our weary hearts as new.

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