Psalms Nth Degree Poems

Global Reach

Tri-formed one Greatest One:
Around the entire planet
like a (vast, invisible) mother dove
You hover, perch, croon and roost.

Sovereign, wisest, most ancient,
ever-youthful Elder:
With magnetic gravity
yet whimsical levity You govern.

Maestro of light-year moments:
You orchestrate cosmic
symphonies, subatomic centrifuge,
each beat, pulse, beam, force, cycle.

Sky-writer, cloud-crafter,
live water surging royal in all veins,
ocean of tears on all shores:
You inspirit all people.



Smile without guile into each child’s eyes
buoying up joy for every girl and boy.

Applaud God like every pea-pod and goldenrod;
hear here, revere with all seers.

Raise praise while you stargaze or walk a maze;
celebrate our Great Creator early and late.

Come now, beat all drums, strum guitars and hum along;
be entranced; dance.  Take a stance.  Freelance.

Follow God’s shadow; echo the oboe;
mingle at the spring; form a ring; linger and sing.



On the cusp of grand-motherhood
You transplanted me,
a restless, impulsive divorcee,
to an urban garden.

After half a life
uprooting myself You rooted me
in church, married anew.
You tend us daily, carefully.

You entrust us with children to love,
books to read and write, people to welcome;
You teach us trust, rest, hope
for every new day.

You walk us across
politics’ prolific divides;
Your immense love carries us along
pain’s rugged trails, through grief’s chasms.

With You, Friend Jesus,
I’m a carefree child for all ages.
Your renewing Spirit will bond
each couple, all churches.



God, who are You? I wail–
the One who sees, hears, knows all?
How can You look into all these children’s
horror-struck eyes?
Jesus Christ!  I shout:
when will all the bitter weeping stop?

Why do hell-on-earth dead zones spread
relentlessly?  Oil gushes in oceans;
carbon stifles oxygen.
War sucks up trillions of dollars,
maims and murders more and more people.

God, I cry for strip-mined mountains,
land-mined river banks, toxic wastes,
garbage dumps where children scavenge.
I scream for child prostitutes,
child laborers, slaves.

O God, what about Your love?
Now I can only moan and whimper,
yearning for Your retribution,
pleading for Your restoration.


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