THIS is WAR

THIS is WAR

Bleeding wounded, solemn slave,

Pallid prisoner, hungry grave.

Brother, sister, refugee.

Bound to darkness, blind are we.

Bodies broken, battle scarred,

Chained in iron, bruised and marred.

Are we just abandoned here?

All alone to ferment fear?

Spoils of a treason war?

Foreigners on this lonely shore?

Forsook, forgot... what for?

Dear comrade,

there is so much more! 

Take heart your not alone!

There is a splint to set that bone.

A hammer to unfetter you,

A bolt of light that cuts straight through!

GET UP! 

We're still at WAR!

The fight and fray is at the door,

The enemy is close at hand,

Your heart is not his captive land! 

Surrender is not what soldiers do.

Death has not Conquered you!

You are free! now take your stand!

Trust The Servant in command!

His victory is a Perfect plan!

Writ long before you were born,

He knew your weakness, and your thorn.

Hear the thrum and turmult sound! 

Here there is no neutral ground.

You are His or you are not,

but for sure. not, forgot!

inspired by Mark Driscoll, Mars Hill, (Ephesians 6:10-24), "I am Victorious" & John Piper, Desiring God, (Romans 7:14–25)   "Who Is This Divided Man?"

~Daniel

Nest Nascent

Nest Nascent

(A Mothers day poem)

((For my Mom))

Borrowed breath of brand new life.

Poured out love in labored strife.

Weary warrior of whispered nights.

Nursing long to faint night-lights.

Harking healer of tearful cries.

Dancing muse of lullabies.

Tender arms, firm in hand.

Held in place to help me stand.

A fixed firm tree in a broken land.

Teacher true who taught to seek.

Lips I learned from how to speak.

Encouraged me to step and walk.

The ears that long to hear me talk.

Selfless servant like no other,

marci.

Daughter, sister, Woman, mother.

~Daniel

coup de grâce

coup de grâce

Oh woe that I would do my damnedest, pull these bootstraps high and hard.

Dig my way out (even deeper), shovel debt from inch to yard.

Oh dread is me that in my pride,  I might drink my just deserve.

And in my lowly merit may, look to self as soul's preserve.

Oh what a weighty burden what lofty wanton stack,

What a wretched kindle pile double high upon my back.

Oh how the potters field gapes wide with hunger night and day,

And for a million lifetimes toil,  I could not hope to fully pay.

But you say "Son put that shovel down I will take the load from you.

I paid complete what you owe, there is nothing more to do,

It is finished! past present future full."

I say, "I don't deserve..." And you reply "I know."

~Daniel