Saturday, February 18, 2012

Is. 61


Isaiah 61
I sometimes wonder if there is no greater prison
Than the one I’ve built around myself
I wonder if I have worn a mask for so long
That I cannot even recognize myself
I don’t realize who’s doing the thinking, the talking
Nor the acting
I’ve locked the doors, and never had a key
Or if I did, I’ve long lost it
Back in the dreams of my childhood
Now those are just mists over distant mountains
As I grab another chain and place it on my feet

I hear of a distant Wanderer
One who knows His way
Yet no one else ever knows
I wonder if I lifted my voice one time
Loud enough to shake the earth
I wonder if He would respond to the tremors
Or would He rather smell the scent of angels
Instead of darkened earth
And tattered flesh

I feel a nervous silence in the masking
I feel the chains cringe in the asking
I immediately know
A whisper released will raise the dust
Healing oil comes from the rust
While a fragrance of hope begins to fill the air
I just released a whisper there
For that is the only thing I ever had

The earth does tremor, but
It isn’t my voice that did it
Rather it was a distant roar
And then a rumbling of the running
Something, someone running
While the earth shakes
And the sunlight comes through the cracks of the wall
The shaking is breaking my prison
Suddenly I am quite afraid

What am I supposed to do when I get out of here?
It seems this is the only place I have ever known
Who am I supposed to be when I am released?
It seems this the only way I have ever known
The rumbling is now an earthquake
I can’t even stand on my feet
And the last thing I remember
Is everything I’ve known collapsing all around me…

And the smell of Love…

K, Duane Carter 2-18-12

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Walks are good...



I am walking along
a place so quiet
I can hear the wings of the moth beat
I can hear the grass sway in the wind
yet
I cannot hear the river
So I keep walking along

I hear the quail chirping in the blackberries
I hear the duck wings as they fly swiftly by
yet
I cannot hear the river

So I keep walking along
humming a song
that flows from the river within

I lift my eyes
to late winter skies
It is more the beginning of spring
before I realize anyone, anything
I see the river
Rising up before me

yet

before I saw it
I heard it

It was then I knew

K, Duane Carter 2-16-12