We wondered first when Mary's boy
Asked elders many questions,
Ran to the temple, full of joy,
And pointed us to Heaven.
Rumors spread at wedding time.
Guests there said the water turned to wine.
A blind man suddenly regained his sight.
We longed to know. Could this be right?

Loaves and fish, five and two,
Enough to feed a little boy
Filled thousands as they grew.
What power did the Lord employ?

Demons fled unwilling hosts.
Broken lives were healed.
Humans raised, no longer ghosts,
Miracles the Son revealed.
Hearing brought He to the deaf.
The lame could walk again,
Loved ones rose from stinking death.
God showed His power to men.

Disciples claimed He walked
Upon the waters deep,
Calmed the storms with talk,
A brief rebuff and back to sleep.
And still, men's hearts were cold.
A traitor rose among His ranks.
For 30 silver pieces, Jesus sold,
The devil's price, so little thanks....

Ten thousand angels at His call,
He didn't say a word,
Chose the path to save us all,
And "It is done!" was heard.
When we looked on, we looked away,
But then we thunder heard.
Bold lightning lit our darkening way,
Quaking tremors shook the earth,
And when the temple curtain tore,
The mountains shook and heavens roared,
And we all stopped. "He is the Lord!"

We sinners saw the Barrier riven,
The way to Heaven clearly made,
Through His death the path was given.
Our sins upon his death were laid.

Now sing we of His resurrection,
Though in the grave He lay
The third day raised Himself for Heaven.
King Jesus is the Only Way.

Father in Heaven, Giver of breath,
I am tainted by my prideful lust,
Wearied as I run toward death.
Kneeling knowing "dust to dust."
Were I to beg you slay the wicked,
My death I'd call for you to give.
Lord, hear the cry of one so wretched,
Tortured now, who begs to live.
Despite my wretchedness, I know
Surrender as I see your Image pressed.
Make whole this desperate soul,
Lift me to live in holy rest.

Amen

Scripture seems to be clear about the permanence
Of hell's torment, yet we finite human beings insist upon
Superimposing our imaginative emendations
Upon Scriptural descriptions.

Why do we do this?
Perhaps our love for those we suspect
Have gone to eternal damnation,
Or the fear that we ourselves may not
Make it to eternal bliss
Motivates us to create
Heavens and Hells,
Multiverses.

I believe that I am finite,
That I am created,
That my planning and conniving are incapable
Of changing the Eternal plans.
I have no power to create alternate realities;
No temporal holds upon supernal.

Burns Creek
Climbing Chimney Rock.
Dad and David Scoville
In their mid 30s,
Two men out to prove
Their bravery,
Their derring-do.

Nervous,
My Mother,
My brother and I,
Five and six,
Necks craning,
Wait and watch;
Dad moves up and up
Clings to the top.

Inept and six,
I stand below,
Admiring my Father's
Fearlessness.

I am nearly blind,
The myopic, thick-lensed gawker,
Peering upward.

The men climb down,
Victorious,
The day’s challenges
Vanquished.

Heading home,
Choking dust.
Old land,
Deep ravines,
Rattle snake domain.

My father's old Ford
Bumps over red scoria,
Billows burning dust.

Ancient land,
Cindered clay,
Open grazing land,
Dry and hot.

Memories churn
From sixty years ago.

Eastern Montana Badlands
1930s....

Coal where one found it,
Scoria hills,
Layered lignite
Waiting near the surface.

Burning lignite beds,
Smoldering centuries old,
Scarring and turning clay to scoria,
Crumbling rock,
Testimony to lightning fires
Beneath the hills.

Crude mines backed into cliffs,
Pick and shoveled coal
Free for the risky taking
Heated homes.

Coal caves,
Low and gaping,
Horizontal shafts.
Wagons first, then
Trucks backed in.

Crowbars and picks
Brought lignite ceilings
Crashing in rotten shatters
Mounding, sometimes burying
Trucks below.

My father told me
How he helped
Chris Ginther,
Deaf coal miner,
Hammer holes,
Insert charges,
Long fuses, trailing.

Old Chris packing holes,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Tamping...
Lighting fuses,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Tamping.

My father said he'd yell
"We need to go!"

Old Chris
Seemed never to hear,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Tamping,
Until finally...
Sauntering out
Before the rumbling Thump.

I can see the two,
Chris and my father,
Just a boy,
Lost in lignite clouds,
Coughing.

Nature rang.
She wants to know
What are your plans
For volcanoes.