Sun Mountain Sitting Big: A Sonnet to Pikes Peak

Mountains

You rise above the cityscape without

Knowing how tall you are. You kiss the sun

At noon, then clothe yourself in a foaming cloud—

Cloistering mystery like a veiled nun.

Your peachy rocks are like a monk’s brown hood.

Above the evergreen your granite grows,

Freezing and falling, forming a rood.

You are a priest who prays to God and slows

Man’s hectic business with your incense-burning,

A perfumed offering rising to his throne.

Your fire and flood and seasonal sacred purging

Are well recorded, but not fully known.

Liturgy climbs this ancient peak of the sun

To worship the Sculptor, Holy Spirit, and Son.

 

(c) 2016 Melody Cantwell

Shepherds’ Song

Field Near Puzzlewood

The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?
My God, no hymn for Thee?
My soul’s a shepherd too; a flock it feeds
Of thoughts, and words, and deeds.
The pasture is Thy word: the streams, Thy grace
Enriching all the place.
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers
Outsing the daylight hours.
Then will we chide the sun for letting night
Take up his place and right:
We sing one common Lord; wherefore he should
Himself the candle hold.

“Christmas II,” George Herbert

Pursuit: A Reflection on Theology

Puzzlewood - Woodland Throne

It is almost futile,

My pursuit of you.

Daily, I realize that.

What can I know of the everlasting God?

Trapped by temporality,

Short and sweet in the terror of the finite.

What can I know of faith?

Trapped by transgressions,

Shackles shackling shackles.

What can I know of hope?

Trapped by treason,

Sanctification ignored in pursuit of unbecoming.

What can I know of love?

Trapped by treachery,

Betrayal paid in petty silver.

What can I know of the Savior?

Trapped by tyranny,

Senses demand sight and touch.

What can I know of God?

Trapped by tangibility,

I will never know until I see him in the new beginning.

It is almost futile,

This pursuit of you.

Daily, I realize that

You pursue me.