Richard D. Lucero
Honorable Mention: 2013 Utmost Christian Poetry Contest $100
About this Poet:
I was born into a home of deep faith, of respect for learning, and of love for the "Word made flesh." He has been my best Friend, my Confidant, and my "Blessed Hope" for a future paradise
About this Poem:
As believers, we are first justified and then guided to our ultimate glorification. That guidance is through Him Whose Name is above all other names. Our middle journey is one of sanctification, a journey filled with longing, with constant condemnation, but also with intermittent ecstasy and exhilaration. My poem traces a few of the challenging paths Christians embark upon on their journey to deliverance. On that way, we feel the Rod of His correction, along with the magnanimity of His Staff of Mercy so that we may be illuminated by His Word and above all by His Divine Love.
I have traversed four paths--
Yes, five paths I have crossed:
The road of perverse desires I have relished,
Yes, I have savored.
In earthen caverns have I wallowed in frenzied passions--
"God will forgive" my nonchalance reply to whispering caution:
"God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."
Down paths of unforgiveness have I trod,
Yes, I have hoofed.
I descend upon the offender with razor talons
Hungry to rip and rend the meaty heart, the pulpous soul
And once flayed
I anoint my right lobe, my right thumb,
The great toe of my right foot I blood stain--
An upturned Aaronic consecration--but
Streams of whistling waters speak: "And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors."
In ruts of pride I have followed,
Yes, I have pranced.
I stand a pyramidic idol gazing at peons beneath
Of dainty treats I partake and shun
The lesser man, the soiled maid
But Paracletian winds winnow
My haughty gaze and superior scoffing--
His trumpet resounds: "God resisteth the proud but gives grace to the humble."
Along trails of hypocrisy I have traipsed,
Yes, I have rambled.
Weaving webs of deceitful knots
And delighting in sepulchral schemes,
A knarled harpy am I.
"You are aglow with righteous lights," I tell the unsuspecting--
Yet from behind I hold their blessings at ransom
And for a purse their immaculate name
As a ground serpent slithers in stealth
I strike and accuse with a smile.
"Thou shall not bear false witness."
About byways of presumption I have roamed,
Yes, I have descended.
I boast: no matter the path, the Singular Three allows
All flights from moral integrity only
Repeat, "Forgive me," and the door will ceaselessly open.
Yet, the clarion alarm resounds: "...except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish."
Along my ways, I reach a fissure,
Yes, a precipice entices me.
Comes a voice scintillating as a dove's warbling: "My son, where are you?"
I am here, Lord, amid proclivities that trip
My soul onto paths of vulturous gnawing.
I have been rescued by six wounds,
Yes, seven blood streams atone for me.
His scourged Temple retrieves my body from frothy filth
His spiny crown crimson washes my thistle thoughts
His cored Hands bleach my prohibitive touches
His burrowed Feet scour my scandalous walks
His lateral laceration cleanses my menacing emotions.
And now my road to Emmaus daily comforts--
The One beside me
Abides and yet abides
His Words a wellspring of Mercy
Flooding my journeys
I alight the mount--
I a transfiguration of His Rod and Staff.
Copyright ©2013 Richard D. Lucero