We point the boat where we want to go.
And the wind shoves us aside some days.
Or the waters churn with chum and we’re surrounded…
Or the boat springs a leak we must patch
Quick! with whatever’s on hand.
So what?
We paddle our boat together.
We point it where we want to go.
185
"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.
Death is a wall we cannot see
What is beyond or meant to be.
So we place our fate in speculation
Or hold the hope of revelation.
What Jesus did and claimed to show
Is truth beyond what we can know.
So we can choose to doubt his grace
Or follow him and see God’s face.
I
We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage
And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die,
We Poets of the proud old lineage
Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why, -
What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales
Of ships and stars and isles where good men rest,
Where nevermore the rose of sunset pales,
And winds and shadows fall towards the West:
......
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
......
Death is a wall we cannot see
What is beyond or meant to be.
So we place our fate in speculation
Or hold the hope of revelation.
What Jesus did and claimed to show
Is truth beyond what we can know.
So we can choose to doubt his grace
Or follow him and see God’s face.
We point the boat where we want to go.
And the wind shoves us aside some days.
Or the waters churn with chum and we’re surrounded…
Or the boat springs a leak we must patch
Quick! with whatever’s on hand.
So what?
We paddle our boat together.
We point it where we want to go.
These are poems about relationships, with lovers, family members, and a God (real or fictitious?)
You!
by Michael R. Burch
For thirty years You have not spoken to me;
I heard the dull hollow echo of silence
as though strange communion between us.
......
Despondent from the hurtful things she said,
The words of anger ringing in my head.
Upon my bed I cry and pray to You,
And often wonder if Your word is true.
But who am I to doubt Your tender love,
When You have shown me mercies from above?
The God Who made the world, the sky and sea
Sees me for who I am, and still loves me.
Almighty One who calls the stars by name
......
I thought to change one hair tonight
from white to black, atop my head.
It seemed a try would be alright
while lying here upon my bed.
I called out to the powers that be
in all their forms amidst the sky,
but nothing changed at all for me
though I had given my best try.
......