White fleshed the wild roots
cold in caves of soil the bulbs, the tubers
burst through aged brown clay, wet through mud slick rains
sun drunk buds of tulip leaves, petals painted pink
bird chirp and groan of ponds, a soft bedded mossy home
of woven fern and forest fronds, home to night's invisible frogs
white moon dogwood blooms, calls heard lovelorn
through an open window.

In spring, green along the river
amid ancestral foothills, we walk deer trails
wild in the woods of scented pine
of silver sycamores, silken barked
stark, they pale against bluest skies
their new leaves green and glistening
we are listening for songbirds, for a language without words
transfixed, through this portal, reborn in this world
warm winds speak sweet and susurrus of spring
melodious they sing, leaving far behind
the cold, the dead of winter.

in this quiet room
i can only hear the rain knocking on my window
i can only feel the storm in my head
dark and it's getting darker
light won't ever shine
cold and it's getting colder
it's autumn in my heart
dying with every leaf
i haven't got the will to live
my body aches
millions of needles through my skin
my heart dies little by little
i embrace the pain
i'm holding my breath
i find joy when closer to death
i am drowning in tears
cutting in my flesh
the rain from my veins falling harder and harder
red on my legs
red from my wrists
an ocean of misery i'm falling in
i cannot swim
i'm drowning in a sleep
that i'd like to last forever.

Isaiah saw the LORD on high
with seraphs 'round Him praising
and knew that he must surely die
but for God's altar brazen

If not for Jesus Christ the Lamb
we all would face hell's woe
but by His grace alone I am
made holy head to toe

So now my life is not my own
but purchased by the King
to make His gospel message known
and His glory forever sing!

For you the woods, the moon
night paths, I breathe the air attuned
treading starlit, I sleep and dream
ever closer my love to you
bright from the sky like stars
ever into your arms I fall
and fall.

Watching the budding vine of petals unfurl
all through winter I am looking for spring
the daffodil yellow greens, the lilac blossoming
of tiny star flower florets, sweet the songbird chorus
moss softly sunning, the trickle of forest creeks running
the remembrance and fragrance, the pungent warmth of rain
drops, wet and round, bounced from trees, upon my face falling down
cool splash, the startling of my eyelash
wet washing and alive, the resurrection, the cycle
of all things again reborn.

ice sculpture trees,
silhouetted against the sun,
scattered from Fairie
on cold winter winds
bear fruits of icicles
as they die
back into reality.

What is this, Lord Jesus, that Thou shouldst make an end
Of all that I possess, and give Thyself to me?
So that there is nothing now to call my own
Save Thee; Thyself alone my treasure.
Taking all, Thou givest full measure of Thyself
With all things else eternal—
Things unlike the mouldly pelf by earth possessed.
But as to life and godliness, all things are mine
And in God's garments dressed I am;
With Thee, an heir to riches in the spheres divine.
Strange, I say, that suffering loss
I have so gained everything in getting
Me a friend who bore a cross.

                                         ~ Jim Elliot (1927-1956)