Archive for the ‘Poem’ Category

Little Girl, Dance
February 2, 2009

Twirl around in your imaginary lovely gown,
Twirl around… wait to see you are a treasure
You are loved
You are wanted
You are beautiful

Even though the words never come,
Little girl,


Five-letter Words
February 2, 2009

They yell it
And scream it
And make you do it.
Make you live under it,
Suporting it;
The Just Cause
That must be borne
Even if you are dying
From the weight of it…
Even if it was never Christ’s intention
That you bear it.
The true thing unattainable…
The carrot on the string
In front of the donkey…
The promise…
But the reward for bearing the load
Never given.
Only more promises
With more beatings.

Peace, you say?
You yell it in my ear,
You demand it from
Those you have labled wrong.
I have been in your marches.
I have seen your faces.
You make victims
Out of sisters
And enemies out of brothers.

You have made this thing your god,
This “peace.”
A triune and ugly thing it is:
God the Peace,
God the Justice,
God the Community.
On your bumperstickers
On your FaceBooks
On your Face…
Not peace.
Only hate

The five letter word…
your cause
your god

But without love
You are a clanging cymbol
A knife that cuts
And cores out
The seeds that would have borne fruit…

Five-letter words
That are more painful to me
Than your foulest curse.

The Painting and the Artist
April 15, 2008

The Painting and the Artist

(Jennifer Hershberger, November 17, 2007)



When you look at a painting,

What is your thought:

Of how this painting

Itself begot?

Of how it drew its own shape and line

And chose the hues

With skill refined?

Of how it blended the colors it made

With such an eye,

And hand so stayed?

How it conceived

Of itself so fair,

That you and I would stop and stare?


But no.

A painting directs observers’ acclaim

To the One who built the wooden frame

And stretched the canvass,

 Firm and taut,

And primed it to receive His thought;

Who took up brush and paint with skill,

And painted from His heart and will

A work that shows His trained perfection,

And bears of the artist

A small reflection.


And so it is with God and man,

For you were formed

By the Master’s hand.

When those around look at you,

They will say, “Who is the Artist? 

Look what He can do!”