Word Made Flesh
Written by: Paul Lickteig
Flesh and bones we are
but there’s also something else
beneath our thin skin
between connective tissue
and molded muscular frames.
We ask, “What is it?”
and join all the old seekers,
but, in truth, we know.
There, under our skin, the world
heaves, conscious, knowing “I AM.”
The universe breathes
as your lungs fill. You exhale
the sun, moon and stars.
Nothing exists, dear, apart
from you, and you are no-thing.
You came from somewhere
and still you exist, to love
to serve and to share;
your heart beats for love of Him,
your mind is moved by Her thoughts.
But how we forget!
Behind our eyes storm winds blow
chaos, desires, fears.
Our concerns will condemn us,
Our deeds be our undoing.
We like to believe
the best of things become us,
but this is not true.
If we fail to live the way
selflessness divines, we die.
We race to our deaths,
filling life until it bursts
with loud guests and games.
We are moved by thoughts unseen,
pushed by plots, ploys, plans and schemes.
We meditate, but
we cannot stay there if we
go inside to hide:
all we think about is what
happened or will happen next.
We try to explain
anguish away by making
claims. “There is no God!”
We hope they will take away
the pain of dying some day.
Or we might cry out
to our Loving Creator
and lament the path.
Stripped and scourged it costs us all
and when we have nothing more…
We might find comfort
in thoughts of eternal life,
but these turn to fear
…in eternity, our bones
may be stripped of flesh and burned.
Ah, the joy of Christ!
Strange how we pray to meet him
and die terrified.
How little we know him, though
all things are made new in him.
God in our image
afraid, we run from ourselves!
we believe death wins.
but mysteriously, no.
The cross was never the end
and dear, in the eye
of your raging I, the storm
finally subsides.
With all lost we can see who
we are created to be.
Photo: “Epiphany“by barabeke from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)
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