Hawks on the hill

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Patient, are his long shadows,
spreading like fingers,
resisting the sun.
Until,….
the hunt begins.

Blind are his prey.
That scuttle below,
these Hawks on the hill.
Silent dark sentinels,
staring omnisciently,
blotting out the sun.

Yet,
I and a few souls see them,
we watch
and inevitably wait.

Their gaze,
is a searing burn,
their hungry caw,
soon shivers my soul.

The hour comes,
like a thief,
filling blue sky.
with small black crosses,
swirling above…

Their lethargic prey,
amble nose to ground,
gorging full bellies,
distracted and unaware,
to what plummets above.

Talons spread,
barely whistling,
through the cool, rush of wind.
Immediately crushing,
then piercing,
the hunted.

The quick kill,
is painless,
like a hot knife,
through warm butter.

Yet,
I see their precision,
an exquisite scalpel to the tumor,
and watch,
wide-eyed,
their kill.

Looking up at me,
with satisfied gazes,
that scorch my skin.
Contentment proceeds,
with a quiet laugh,
as my soul takes notice.

The Hawk,
arises with severed flesh,
leaving just a scar,
to tighten skin,
to widen pores,
and pull upon senses.

The hunted are left,
miraculously healed,
that is,
until tomorrow…

Dreams begin,
awakening the hunted,
to a newer normal,
a different reality,
a new way to forage.

For tomorrow transforms,
through stretched skin,
making the hunted,
a little less blind,
and a bit less deaf.

Blessed are the hunted.

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By Chris Clody
3/16/18

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When The Bee Stings

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יְהֹוָה

When the bee stings,
a child’s tear erupts
A mother kisses away the pain
When the son disrespects;
his father disciplines,
Trust flowers anew,
Forgiveness blooms in request.
When Torah is celebrated;
His commands galvanize the beating heart
His Laws of Love infuses every jot and title,
Yeshiva lifts eyes to Sinai,
Love of יְהֹוָה and neighbor becomes a Temple.
When Profound Love finds favor;
A handmaid sings,
The Song of Hannah echoes once again,
A virgin is overshadowed,
Magnified is the soul of Theotokos.
When a Son is given;
A Way is infleshed,
A Truth awakens dim eyes,
A Life is revealed,
Magi honor a newborn King,
Psalm 19 finds its voice.
When the Olive is pressed;
Bled is Another’s will,
Stripes give healing,
A thorny crown pricks a King,
Via Doloroso is carved by His cross,
When the Son of God is crushed,
Blood and water baptize the earth,
The choir moans in silent expectation,
Obedience gives up His Ghost.
The Father’s tear anoints a gate through Heaven.
When faith, hope, and charity are sowed,
Crosses are hoisted and yoked to the downtrodden,
A disciple craves love of God and neighbor
The poor are fed,
The naked clothed,
The slave is set free,
The forgotten are welcomed,
Warmth and hope visit the sick and imprisoned,
The church gathers in song and praise.
Happy are the many
When unity is challenged, it offers strength
When friendship is betrayed, forgiveness is availed
When hope is pressured, patience abounds,
When faith is oppressed, fear evaporates,
When charity becomes human, creation finally evolves.

By Chris Clody,
5/26/17

 

Will You Spare Some Time For Me?

Who I Am

sunrise

What else can I do,
To prove to you,
I am who I said I am?

What more could you ask,
From Me, for you,
Don’t you see My feet and hands?

Please come back to Me,
Listen to Me;
Your heart will understand.

Love is the reason,
Love sets you free,
Love is all that I command.

Mercy never fails,
To see your best,
Unveiling hope is My plan.

Rest in Me awhile,
And soon you’ll see,
The Way, Life, Truth – is Who I AM.

By Chris Clody
12/30/16