Monday, November 1, 2010

Rise; Come: A Reconciliation


He listened, the words first
washing upon his ears like
whispers upon the sand,
touching shore, retreating,
hitting shore, pounding
shore, retreating; returning
to obliterate the crumbling
sand castles of his mind.

His ears stopped hearing
the words, the words
diverted, touching his chest,
stronger like the loud bass
amplified at a rock concert,
pounding his ribs, slamming
through bones to tear
at his heart.

Images of brokenness
appeared, his heart cracking,
splitting, rupturing into
nakedness, destroyed. It
was all broken; everything
was failing, collapsing and
imploding upon the final
redoubt, smashed.

Silence. No bells. No
trumpets. No angels singing
hallelujah. No Hollywood
moment because he wasn’t
ready for his close-up,
Mr. DeMille. But it came
anyway and the voice said,
“Rise; come.”

To see other posts on reconciliation, please visit Bridget Chumbley's place for the One Word Blog Carnival; the links will be live tonight at about 10 p.m. central time.


Photograph: Cross by Petr Kratochvil, via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
at

10 comments:

  1. S. EtoleNovember 1, 2010 at 7:59 PM

    I read this aloud and felt the impact of your words ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousNovember 2, 2010 at 12:10 AM

    i especially like the part about no hollywood moment.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Shail RaghuvanshiNovember 2, 2010 at 5:45 AM

    This was lovely Glynn. What imagery! Felt the intensity of it all...

    ReplyDelete
  4. sue harrisonNovember 2, 2010 at 8:12 AM

    Rise, come. So much hope in those two words!

    ReplyDelete
  5. AnonymousNovember 2, 2010 at 10:20 AM

    Beautiful. I love this, Glynn.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Kathleen OverbyNovember 2, 2010 at 8:06 PM

    First, I had to go wiki Sunset Blvd for context of 'ready for a close up, Mr. DeMille'...... Shoot me-I've never seen it!

    This is how your poem strikes me: we are accepted in the beloved, up close and personal, no photoshop or airbrushing. Just like I am. What a relief~

    ReplyDelete
  7. AnonymousNovember 2, 2010 at 10:43 PM

    Full of impact, Glynn. Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Melissa CampbellNovember 3, 2010 at 3:09 PM

    Intense! The listening, hearing, hoping, fighting against our memories of defeat, and being saved by a still, small voice. What grace-- how God-words crumble the sand-castle walls we hide behind, reach in and save us. :) I enjoyed this poem!

    ReplyDelete
  9. a joyful noiseNovember 5, 2010 at 1:42 AM

    No bells no trumpet, only the still small voice whispering come unto me and I will give you rest.

    ReplyDelete
  10. caryjoNovember 13, 2010 at 4:25 PM

    After I read what Susie said, I did the same... read it out loud. That just poured it forth. Amazing to see how the Lord's creative spirit implodes and impels.

    ReplyDelete