when eleven comes

From dawn I waited,
My shirt pressed and shoes shined,
With gears oiled and lamps filled.
Awaiting the call,
Hoping to be chosen.

All day long it went on,
All names called but mine,
Everyone gathering up their tools.
Discarding we unchosen,
And sinking my hopes.

Unable, incapable, unqualified,
Just not good enough.
Each rejection giving a different name.

But now comes the eleventh hour,
When all others have left,
Why am I still here?

I don't know.
Against all hope, will someone yet choose me?

Matt. 20: 1-15

sč
Singapore, December 22nd, 2008

the emperor's lament

Each step trudging, he is bent over.
Eyes fixed below, the precious treasure borne two-handed,
Awaiting future's birth.

But here in the wild and lonely cold,
Where new life depends on efforts beyond his own,
On fates conspiring to reward diligence with despair,
To what hope bears he this breaking labour?
Faithfully bearing faith's burden,
A foolish hope - utter hopelessness?

'Be shielded, dear one,
You are yet a seed,
Sown in truth, truth sown over.
But 'twil not always be so.
To instinct we'll remember,
Your grit a testament to hope,
Till truth bears fruit,
And life cracks forth.
Behold, the dawn awakens.'

Inspired by The March
For the beloved of HCC

sč
Singapore, July 16th, 2008

blessing (blunt, not blind)

Bless me, O Lord,
For You are good and I must desire it,
So I am taught.

But between the teaching and the grasping,
I am learning,
As contrary is Your tendency,
These blessings are not to vanity's sake.

And so,
Bless me with what needs me,
Though I want it not.
Bless me with a constant lack,
That sees You complete what I cannot.
Bless me with a hunger that grows,
The more and more it's filled.

Not blessings blind to acquiesce,
Be not a sightless Santa stumbling through the dark.
When difficult words are needed,
When 'til best losing than gaining,
When blunt is true
And sugary sweet rots away,
Bless me, O Lord,
Bless us all.

For TC

sč
Singapore, July 1st, 2008

between the already and the not yet

Here is where I find myself,
More and more these days,
Not that I would choose it,
Still providence, this wind it chooses me.

For requests great and small,
I ask my desire, for intent,
Pleading persistently, waiting willingly,
I will not complain, take Your time.

"No, why have you to wonder,
How long the answer to tarry.
Why shouldn't I have answered,
This uncertainty the moment you asked?"

Given, spoken, sent, the answer is already.
But between the uttering and the happening,
Is this tightrope I end up walking.
For the promise given is come to pass but not yet,
So here on the wire my heart is tense,
Stretched, in stretching to grow,
While we are here,
Between the already and the not yet.

sč
Singapore, May 24th, 2008

reproach

Once like a pall hanging over,
The burden of shame and scorn,
The reproach spoken over our past and present,
Covering our eyes, wedging our feet in the scar,
Wrought all along the dirt.

And the sorrow of sorrows,
Not that these voices ceased not,
But that the sounds of derision ringing our ears,
Were words coming from our own lips.
Manacled by unseen shackles,
We, the objects of our own reproach.

But we hear a whisper in the quiet,
A hope that the shroud may yet be lifted,
Of one who is able, even more willing.
Delay not, o Saviour,
Lift this cloud over our hearts,
This chain we cannot escape,
Because each link is our self.
Redeem our future from the past,
And make this present a blessing.

sč
Singapore, April 14th, 2008

lent

Lent, now shortened from lengthen,
That time when the warm sun stirs to linger,
And cold white retreats for a time.
Remembering the Son who awakened to remain ever,
Beyond the stone's rolling flight.

Lent, also a tag on lend,
For this life we have is bestowed,
Not from our own but what You impart.
And as You gave Your Self to die,
That day three days before the rising,
Our lives, wills and knowing we lay down,
To one day see the beauty wrought through death,
The art, whimsical and lyrical grace that spring anew.

sč
Singapore, March 20th, 2008

blessed are the persecuted

Blessed are the persecuted,
Hounded and pursued,
Insulted and accused,
Cast down and crushed,
Wronged for no other sake but His.

Faithful you stand to righteousness,
Your loyalty remains to One,
Your heart will not be divided
Between a world and a kingdom,
And though meek and merciful,
Your hands for peace will still work,
Even if hostile rejection is all they reply.

So wallow not, neither withdraw,
Instead, take heart and be glad,
For looking ahead we see the end of our labour,
When the fullness that is breaking in
Shall indeed break through and out.
And looking behind are the voices of all before,
Who have struggled and mourned and hung on,
And whose ovation rings out at the finish line,
All across this present and coming kingdom.

Matt. 5: 10-12

sč
Singapore, February 28th, 2008