The dragon hunted them,
the babe and his mother.
It followed them into the wilderness,
but they were protected
by the LORD.
In heaven above,
Michael and the serpent fought;
the dragon, the fallen were cast out.

Thought about this for awhile,
what time period would fit my style?
Renaissance with books and paintings
And castle jesters entertaining.
Russian palaces with diamond gowns,
And for the wealthy, food abound.
Ancient times with jeweled cuffs,
Choosing one might sound tough.
Yet as I truly consider this,
Much of my own time would I miss.
Modern medicines is extensive,
And slavery is found offensive.
Fresh water's available too,
And from the moon we have Earth's view.
Much of the world can read and write;
And, just think of the beautiful sight,
Which can be shared from a photograph,
And preserves where I can see a giraffe.
And I am a woman, this is true,
In past times I'd be a possession to use
For political gain of my father or brother.
No, now is a time unlike any other.

It sat on the the oldest bench
in New York City's park.
There was no one around
to claim the spiral bound journal.
Approaching it with slow steps,
I looked quizzically down
and read upon dark blue cover,
"Please take me home
Share your journey,
And pass me on"
Curious, cautious
I picked it up
and began to read.
Filled with poems
I wasn't quite sure what
to make of it at first.
Yet as I continued on,
I noticed dates, places.
Seven people
had held this book before me.
Seven people
had written tales of their lives.
It started by the river,
with life in a small town
in Virginia.
Traveled West with family of four--
the youngest brother wrote that one.
A new mother found it next
and wrote of her precious child,
her hopes and dreams,
of who her daughter would become.
Her brother found the book next,
then taking it with him on his flight,
he wrote about his war time overseas.
Left in the airport,
a history professor caught sight
of the spiral
smiled at shared memories
before writing a short piece
on his journey home.
Taking it with him, northbound,
it was left at the next terminal,
and picked up by the granddaughter
of  a WWII vet, staying with them
for the winter break.
She penned a piece before heading off to bed.
Tales of life left on the living room table,
The warrior wrote about
a short piece of his life he rarely shared.
A little after dawn the next day,
he followed his morning routine,
walking through the park near his home.
Then, resting on the oldest bench in the park,
he sat the journal down and finished his walk.

I am a mother
I have three children
and I teach them daily
I teach them to play, to speak,
when it is best to be silent,
and how to hunt.
I have a spouse,
we are loyal to each other,
mated for life.

You fear me, hate me
simply because I exist.
History has portrayed me,
my kind as evil,
especially in your fairy tales.
Yet have you ever wondered
how many of those stories
were actually based upon my brethren?
Or, why, in these tragedies,
do you portray, a single predator
when you know we are a pack?

We are a small group,
mostly eradicated by your people.
Though we are beginning to
have births, growth--
we are still too few.
You cannot speak my language,
do not understand how we
protect each other,
provide for each other.

For a while you guarded us,
but now you call us a danger.
What have we done to you?
Why are you hunting me? my family?
Do you hate me because I survived?
because I did not die out when you
invaded, destroyed my home?
Do you hate me because you fear me?

Christ:
He is the lamb who was slain at
Passover
for the sins of the world.

He is the Son of God,
He is God.
The Alpha and Omega,
the first and the last.

He is the only one
found worthy to open
the seals
of the scrolls
in Revelation.

Immanuel.
He is the King of Israel
      and of Judea
Ruler of all the earth.

He is the Lion.
Holding the scepter
prophesied by Jacob called Israel:
the one to whom it belongs
has come.

He is worthy.

So let now,
heaven and earth forever sing,
as we bow the one true God,
"To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!"

Every Christmas, birthday, or any other holiday
              where gifts are exchanged,
I am asked the same question,
"What would you like?"
Don't you know by now?
It's not gifts I want.
I don't want jewelry or clothing or  money or trips;
I don't want new books--though you know I enjoy those;
I don't want chocolate or a new phone.
Don't you know by now?
All I want is to spend some time with you.

Bare  skin--
no makeup covers her face
when she wakes first thing in the morn.

Her blue eyes sparkle as she blinks back sleep
and heads towards the bathroom.

Pulling out her makeup--
foundation, powder, eyeliner and shadow, blush,
         mascara and lipstick--
with care she applies each one.

Will she every feel, know
that she is beautiful just the way she is?
That she looks her best
          not covered in camouflage,
but the way she was created?