Sunday, December 30, 2012

Young Girl Waving

Day's first breath, a gift from the Creator.
Star-bright morn glows on the edge of blackness.
Young Girl and old star ignite a day to
life, both rising from beyond the dark night.

"Wave to me, wave to me," sings the Young Girl
to her father as he steps out the door.
She runs to the glass and parts the curtain
by half to watch Father come round the turn.

In the window she stares quietly out
through the panes at Father leaving, waving.
Motion in the lace, her hands speak giving,
eyes fixed on Father going for the day.

One last long wave before he disappears.
All's forever lost with no "goodbye" when
Young Girl views life from lower window panes.
Greetings to the Sun, farewell to Father.

©Eusebeia Philos 2012

Thursday, December 20, 2012


Interpret for me what God has spoken,
the clear, sublime whisper of sunrise bright.
My mind bends my heart, a place dark, broken,
incapable, blind to perfect insight.

Battered, bound to a strangled soul in death,
my life is forfeit through the biting curse
that pursues me, eating my very breath,
as hope eludes the good, becomes the worse.

Reserve me the morn when this pitiful,
lonesome thing - a man I cannot call it,
emerges, changes from the abysmal
through a delivery not decrepit.

Following the God-Man, the Grave-Walker,
his life becomes mine, a hidden transfer,
Father-arranged, he the great Soul-Stalker
who subtly overrules the Saboteur.

So that with new ears, open, I can hear,
So that with new eyes, open, I can see,
the Word made flesh, the God who cried a tear,
and fall, to kneel, groan, and cry out Glory!

©Eusebeia Philos 2012