April 21 - Chasing

Chasing

I went off to chase a dream
When I first set out on life
I was going to be a writer,
With a dog, some kids, a wife.

I chased that dream, some form or other
For forty years and more.
Diversions led me on and off the path
God throws at you all sorts of little chores.

All things work together for good
Paul warned us about all that.
What he never promised was on the trip
You'd get to grow sassy and fat.

The walk with Christ is beautiful
But it often is uncomfortable
And though it may not make you rich,
The voyage will be memorable.

When I began I had no notion,
Where I was bound or what,
Sort of journey it would be,
What doors would open which would not.

Here at the end I'm wondering,
What from here and on will be.
Just like in all my life I guess,
I'll just have to wait and see.

© 2020 by Tom King

We See the Sun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We See the Sun

Even when the sky is gray

And the clouds so thick you can’t see where

Or if the sun is shining still,

And yet we know the sun is there

For by it I see everything

In the scattered light of day.

I know tomorrow grass will grow

And soon the clouds will roll away.

Storms may hide the sun sometimes

And in the darkness fling the thunder,

Lightning, hail and sheets of rain,

And cause us all to wonder,

Why the gentle warming sun

Would allow the wind and snow.

Until you see the daisies rise
Among the puddles, then you know.

 
© 2018 by Tom King

April 29 - Bridge Builder

Bridge-Builder

I remember how that bridges

Always held an utter fascination

When I was just a bootless boy

With ample time and much imagination.

When I would with building blocks, Erector sets,

Hunks of stone, woodpile scraps and slivers,

Litter the house with rickety bridges

That spanned imaginary rivers.

It was the barriers I suppose

That I never really liked,

Always in the way of where I wished to go,

Barring every quiet trail I hiked.

Rivers invited me to build canoes.

Gullies, ravines defied me to try

To traverse intricacies of knots and rope,

Some book had taught me how to tie.

In the intervening years I’ve built

More bridges than I care to say

Some well used. Others, not so much.

It does not matter anyway.

You are not required to always cross

Every bridge encountered everywhere.

Bridge-builders do not mind, just so.

If a bridge is wanted, it is there.

That’s all I really wanted all along.

To leave behind me crossings that abide

A string of bridges, spanning barriers

Paths by which to reach the other side.

I hope that God will leave some rivers

When he makes the Earth anew.  

Chasms I can throw a span across;

And places I can build a bridge or two.

© 2016 by Tom King

April 9 - Someone to Bury Us

Someone to Bury Us

The urge to create children runs deep within the race.

   The cynics attribute it to everything

From biological urge to fear that when we die

   There will be no one left to bury us;

No one left to mourn when we are gone.

   But the cynics all are wrong.

We hold their little faces wet and red from being born

   In our hands and gaze in wonderment

Looking for traces of ourselves in the little faces 
   We suddenly would die for and know that we will live for.
Vanity, self-love," the skeptics say, "Vain copies of ourselves."

  The skeptics are all wrong.

We watch them grow, come to believe in us, copy us

   And when they go beyond us, our fondest hopes

In their triumphs are fulfilled. And we rise with them.

   "Just trophies," the doubters say, "Collected on the mantle –

An array of photos propped up, proof of our virility.

   The doubters too are wrong.

We know that they will one day draw away.

   Experience the miracle that we did.

Hold those tiny faces, searching for traces of themselves

   And maybe, if they remember, they will also see a trace of us.

We slip away at the end content, despite the cynics, the doubters and the skeptics.

   Smiling as we go, knowing what good we left behind.

© 2014 by Tom King