Friday, December 7, 2012


Pen stands astute ready to conduct symphony of dot and tittle,
and we all go marching into her soft warmth.

Peace settles into her nest,
life is pronounced.

All of my being displaced in the barrel of this object,
and there my relationship with You rests and is made known.

Sharp metal pressing character into tree flesh once more,
pointing toward that other Holy imprint of time and its great divide.

There in the suspended sacrament of B.C. and A.D.
the Word clings to pulp and the blood flows.

It echoes still- as red ink pours onto page.
Confusion leaves, focus comes and faith is strewn.

                                                      ~Delissa Jo Payne
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