cornered or enslaved

“cornered”, commented your conscience!

i know for sure you have a conscience
one that you have now, carefully, cornered
for your convenient cornering others!

but as for me, i am enslaved, and you hinted

in your note with the first two, and the last two words
you hand-picked, like you hand-pick tomatoes
in the store before you store them in yours

once we understand who we are in our essence

the rest flows swiftly like in an unblocked kitchen
sink where beyond all violence all is cleansed
before we go for rest or for our recreation

henry victor     05.01.2015

 

i am envious

i realize i am almost, always, envious

of those who get away with all their wrongs
and i keep complaining about the flourishing
of the evildoers, forever scheming
and making no authentic reference to you!

i pray that you will teach me to delight

in nothing but in your sheer presence
bringing home your providence
the form and content i cannot dictate!

help me to be content with your will

that i may restrain my stubborn will
revolting against yours, insisting on my requests
that require not for my greater well being
known not at this flash before a further becoming!

fill my heart with peace that passes all perceptions

too human, too momentary, even if it is soreness
to my present mind incapable of weighing with care
the real gold from that which only glitters!

 

you make me laugh

i find it interesting to note that you control not

the affairs of the world like a lay leader
controlling a church community in the countryside
where the control without the values
of your Kingdom is very effective
leaving no room even for you to restrict!

i have often wondered whether the world

you sustain will function better
if you ran this world with an absolute control
like a grade two teacher in a countryside school!

not that i do not appreciate the greater freedom

you have given to all your human partners
to grow into that mercy full of loving kindness!

but to see that you are frequently left behind

like an Indian bus conductor issuing tickets
standing in the middle of the journey
while the driver drives away makes me laugh
and makes my coming to you for grace
and help superfluous like many rituals in your temple
and a waste of my precious time!

arise, arise O Lord and gird up the loins

of your mind and strike those who interfere
with your will, to spread their arrogant domination!

may your Kingdom with power come

to establish mercy in the margin
Amen, Amen, and Amen!

 

 

a contemporary confession

you are the very source of my life
though you always remain invisible to eyes
with limited focus and incomprehensible to mind
leaping like a monkey lacking patience

i sit not still to carefully weave together

the available evidence for your being
ending at the end doubting you and failing to feel
your presence pleasing my heart, compelling conscience

i am rarely ready to choose your will and walk

in the path you choose as it winds through the dark
valley lacking fame for self and also deficient
with worldly wealth but in plenty is repeated failure

though you have always remained sufficient

for saints who cherished your presence; they learnt
the art of quiet mind and the heart that only houses
your throne, emptying the vessel they sailed calm

but i am growing like a plant bent and choked

by a crowded surrounding desperately turning
towards the life giving sun to shine on her body
to yield a few fold before drooping to die

i pray, hence, you stoop down to lift me up

to the realm of your regular presence, the grace
i may breathe in and breathe out, your life-giving
silver rays to make my limbs strong and stout

 

always something there

sure, there is always something there

to clean up, to be made straight

i am aware that you are perfect

and perfection is that towards which
you gently, and often not so gently
tug me, nudge me and push me

but my perfection is dependent

on your all-pervading presence
that your hand may re-make
and re-mould my inner person

my being has been corrupted by the world

with much filth, and in turn
my soul, with much dirt, too has polluted
the world you created so beautifully

so, again i plead for your covering

my soul, with your gentle hovering
over my every moment and every space
that i escape not from your presence

your presence is your providence,

the fertile soil in which my soul
thrives like a tree planted by the brook
yielding fruit in season and out of season
with no withered branch, nor leaf
drooping to taint your glory

 

started seeking you

since i started seeking you i have lost

all my love for looking for pleasures
that this world may give; hence i come to you
so frequently like a little girl running to her dad

not that i seek for wealth or fame

nor that i ask for life that is long
but your presence to wrap me
to keep me warm when the world is cold

now that i serve you to re-fix that earlier balance

you made in moulding, with names, human souls
from that abysmal chaos;
cover me with that word you have told

when i have offended someone

who considers himself more important;
for i lack very much that bold inner garment
i should constantly wear

not that i want to be remembered

when i am dead!
for your sake i have already released
all my wants, except your presence

and to be remembered in your memory

that i may glide into your being
the only authentic living

 

turning my thoughts

i turn my thoughts to you

i like to see your face
i have questions that trouble me
that i want you to answer

i seek inner strength with an inner cleansing

since the outer remains rotten
and stinking with greed
for power, control, and domination

‘follow me’, is what i heard

and i have followed that voice demanding ‘kingdom values’
submerged and scattered in sacred scriptures
from that ancient world, also in my conscience

those who fear you are few in numbers

and among those who respect your rule
fewer will pick up their cross leaving me
and other powerless utterly alone and speechless

i pray that you multiply those who stand for right

over the many who push, their might
to break the bruised reed
and quench the dimly burning wick

i pray that you give me courage

to walk away like Jesus, empty-handed
when i am crucified, rather then bending my knees
to today’s Herod and Pilate, the insolent might

i pray that you teach me to trust your providence

your unseen presence, and learn that i will, at the end
take nothing into that beyond
hence strive for nothing that is perishing