Cloudwalker

DOORS

One of my favorite authors is Max Lucado. The other day I was reading in one of his books. He was telling a story about a beggar that went up to a mansion to get some food and was sent around to the back. Every time the owner started to lead the beggar in pray the beggar would pray “Your Father which art in heaven.” When asked why the beggar said that if he prayed “Our Father” that would make them brothers and he didn’t think the Father would be pleased with him making ...

Christmas is almost here. People are bustling around trying to find that perfect gift. Choirs are working hard to prepare and preform their special music. Children work on memorizing lines for their special programs that will be watched eagerly by family and friends, even though they have heard it all hundreds of times before. Radios play joyous Christmas music and congregations sing songs such as “Silent Night” and “Joy to the World.”

But if you look beneath the surface you will find ...

The Shepherd

I’m a shepherd. I guess you could say I was among the first to welcome him. Oh, that was a wondrous night, but it didn’t start out that way. Far from it! It started out just the same as any other night. But it sure didn’t stay that way. We were gathered on a hillside just outside of Bethlehem that night. Normally we don’t gather the flocks together at that time of year, but the weather was a bit cool and so we banded together to keep a bit warmer. It was just an ...

Some time ago I started writing a series of poems about my life. The First one was called The Empty Stage. With each major event I have added a new part. As you may know a year ago Oct. 2 my wife died. I have written a poem for the Empty Stage cycle in honor of her death. I post it here in memory.

The Empty Stage: Part 7

The Stage is full of players
But empty it seems to me.
Tears flow that blind my eyes
And see not their forms.

...

Lament

Friend,
Lover,
Companion,
Partner in every sense of the word.
My other half in ways no other could,
Comforter.
You held me as I cried when my dad died.
Who will hold me now?
Who’s shoulder will catch my tears?
Who’s arms will wrap themselves around me?
The pillow just doesn’t work.
It’s not the same.
I cry into it, and it catches the tears,
But it only gets wet.
It can’t comfort me like ...