Aiden is playing in the Shipyard in Charleston. He and his team have played three games and won two. They play again tomorrow afternoon.

A very exciting part of watching baseball, for me, is the interaction between pitcher and batter, each trying to outdo the other.

I tried to time the pictures at the moment the pitcher delivered his best shot.

The streets were so quiet that Sunday afternoon, 
the breeze carried only the faint sounds of some yard work and the occassional bark of a dog. 

The sky had threatened rain after Church but it never came. 
I spent the afternoon walking the dog and reading by the partially open window. 

The words of the Deacon's sermon stayed with me into the evening, and I let them speak to my heart and my mind kept coming back to simple and profound truths. 

The language of eternity swirls around, 
even in silence, 
they cut through the sayings of despair, 
to continue burning the embers that stoke the fire in the hearts of man. 

All the quiet, 
the windows partially open, 
Spring coming,
pushing Winter out of the sky. 
All htings must pass, 
this too shall pass, 
nothing will remain, 
except for the stone carved words of God and all that he wills. 

Those spounds are the constant refrain fo scripture and of quiet Sunday afternoons, 
and in the quiet that settles in and around the sanctuary, 
and, 
in the final surrender to God, 
saying, 
"You're will be done!"
God is always there, barely breaking the silence of quiet and serene Sunday afternoons. 

(only broken by the occassional bark of a dog and hte presence around the altar.)

Even in the dark of night, 
the intrusive thoughts of my head make room for these whispers of eternity.

II.

The night settled in, 
grabbing his focus, 
growing terror, 
settling into his veins, 
and allowing his sweat to become like blood, 
that night, 
under a full moon, 
the intensity left him exhausted and even more afraid. 

A whisper of doubt, 
a possible way out? 
until the answer he sought was no! 
Rising desperation - Your will be done, in you I trust. 
Then he got up of fthe ground and in increasinbng darkness he found his friends asleep, 
then his betrayer arrived and the hour of shadows was upon him. 

Following a long week, 
I returned to that small Church out by the ocean. 
He preached about Christmas and Easter flowers. 

(He said that they can be replanted as a reminder of God's glory and his continued presence in our lives.)

He spoke of the Easter candle, 
and that its shrinking size represents the passage of time and the arrival of new lives, 
it also shows us that God remains long after the doors are closed, 
and the flame of the candle is gone, 
those whispers, 
those longing, tugging, feelings that make us return to another version of revelation, 
inviting us to eternity. 

T.S. Deary 
20 March - 30 March, 2023 
 

Maybe, becasue I am not good enough, God is trying to show me, that there are are so many things that will never be explained? 

(I cannot earn his love.) 

Then, that ungrateful bundle of adoloescents, told me I was fat, old and unneeded and that I should leave. 

All words spoken with the complete fullness of adolescent narcicissm, immunity to responsibility and after all they only spoke the truth, 
laughing and praising themselves, oblivious. 

Then there was me, 
my first reaction, 
that instinct to go for the throat, with sharp words and viens full of poison, 
to spit in their blank faces, 
to see how they would react, 
push the moment to its crisis! 
What would their reaction be to their own experience with truth? 

(obnoxious brats) 

I fall away and fail to show grace, 
to find my way back from the edge of this selfish and indulgent cliff, 
then comes the realization that this struggle will never come to an end and that the best I can do is to turn, repent and believe.

I see their blank faces, 
I see how they dont care at all, 
they don"t even know that I am here. 
They dont care about anything I have to say, 
taking selfies, 
obsessed with eye shadow palettes and prom dresses. 

We were hardly nurtured as children, 
to tired from playing, 
to notice that our parents were marching at their own pace to where I am now. 

We all lived for summer, 
the road would never end...
(and now it is comong up to December and we are waiting for a slice of Spring to wake us up.) 

Childhood freinds, 
some now gone, 
unanswered calls, 
quiet house and the appraoch of Fall. 

That school, 
silent and empty, 
non descript, 
listen closely to the echoes, 
soft and fading fast. 

Looming seasons, 
lasting, time made memories, 
falling and crashing into emotional cresendoes. 

T.S. Deary 
4/15 - 4/20/2023 

I am very grateful to have a poem in the latest, Poetic Visions contest. The poem, my oeiginal, is called, “The Girl On The Steps. The painting, by Philip Smallwood, is called Sno Cone.

Thematically this poem is a “book end” to my poem, “Those Three Chairs.”

There is no blame here, 
none to be put upon anyone, 
we are only humans after all. 

(All but one of the walls of the Temple have crumbled and they blame God.) 

There are no honest people that are willing to stand up and say, "No More."
It is there, in the spaces created by deliberate silence, that the doors to his presence are opened wide. 
Those are the times when evil grows, 
even flourishes, 
wasting away everyone's well given dignity, 
there is where ideas grow, 
they come and they go and they never completely die, 
always coming back and taking more than they ever give, 
bringing bloody ends to starry dreams.

(for those whose eyes are never fully open.) 

See what it is that sends them on their way, 
those whose ears are full of noise that never stops and all those sounds that never make any sense. 
Woe to you and woe to me, 
never being able to see beyond the end of their own noses. 
He rushes into all things always trying to distract and pull apart.
(shreds of news and discarded thoughts once thought relevant.)

When he went out into the desert, 
he was there, 
appearing ot him as if out of nowhere, 
wasting no time, 
preying upon his identity. 

(If you really are the Son fo God...) 

Preying on his hunger, 
desire for power, 
deisre for riches, 
to give up the servant life and to reject the will of God.

(those voices later shouted, "Crucify him, Crucify him... We have no King but Caesar...")

Not once, twice, but three times, 
denying him, swearing, 
"I don't know him!" 

Betrayal of innicent blood, 
end of a starry eyed dream, 
for thirty pieces of silver. 

"What you are going to do...Do quickly." 

Asking, 
"If you really are the Son of God...would he really ask you tro die?" 
To be torn apart, limb from limb, by this crazy pack of wolves. 
"Do you really believe?" 

(Look, your King comes riding on a donkey...Now he comes carrying a cross.) 

(Look, your betrayer is near, even reaching out to kiss you, he even calls you Rabbi.) 

"I know who you are, 
I was there when God threw you out of heaven...falling like lightning." 
You, nor anything you do, or promise, cannot exceed the joyful aftermath that comes to those who believe, 
the Son of Man will come on the clouds of heaven and you will be crushed under his heel. 
(you cannot destroy God's Temple as long as God lives there.) 
From the desert you departed from me for only a while, waiting like hte thief you are for a more opportune time to come. 
(as always you came to me at my lowest.) 
Asking if I really believed, 
"Who is you father?' 
speaking of the too heavy burden of sin and offering me a false life line, telling me to depend upon myself.
(As if myself was enough to rely on after denying from where I came.) 
You have no power over me if not given to you from beyond. 

The presence of evil is sometimes banal, 
sometimes it is glamorous and flashy, 
grandiose and shallow at the same time, 
it's there whenver someone washes their hands and a lamb is led off to the slaughter, 
(especially the unborn, innocent, torn from their mother's womb.) 
I am there whenever innocence is shattered and stolen, 
when self is woshipped and others are ignored. 

I will put you behind me, 
you will never step back from the front, 
up front and center, 
looking for all the attention you can get, 
never understanding what God says, 
never understanding what God means, 
when he says, 
"the first shall be last and the last shall be first." 

T.S. Deary 
3 March - 15 March 2023 

When the time came, 
the disciples did as Jesus said, 
they went and found the colt, 
untied him, 
and brought him to Jesus. 

When they entered the city, 
all the people praised him. 

"Hossanna in the highest!" 
"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" 
"Blessed is the son of David!" 

(All they said was true and he made no effort to silence them!) 

Surely he has come to claim his throne, 
surely he has come to break the hold of Rome, 
Now, God will be avenged, cut for cut and broken bone for broken bone, 
God's Messiah will send these Roman armies home. 

Jesus will indeed reclaim his throne, he will fulfill all of the scripture, 
and in his time make all things new again. 

"Hossanna in the highest!"
"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" 
"Hossanna in the highest!" 

Then he went to the Temple, 
ready for what was to come. 

T.S. Deary 
2/20/23 

Because I came from dust, 
to dust I shall return, 
if not for the mercy of God, 
and the atonement of the Son. 

I believe, 
not out of fear, 
but out of a desire to be more. 

Becasue he knew the Father all along and from the Father he came, 
to the Father He went, 
fully aware and fully accepting all the Father asked of Him. 

Because I want to remain in the Light, 
because I sometimes turn to the darkness, 
and because God shows mercy and also calls for repentance, 
and to die to the world and to become what he made me to be.

Christ has died.
Christ has Risen! 
Christ will come again. 

Call me a hypocrite.
Call me a fool. 
Christ calls me too and he still calls you. 

Here I am now, 
here He is too, 
alive and fully real, 
denial changes nothing, 
for you too copme from dust and to dust you shall return, 
between the spoken word adn the act is the truth, 
denial of the truth is no way to live, 
live fully, 
not dying forever, 
all about self, 
betraying all that could be, 
(thirty pieces of silver.) 

Turn around, 
trun around and see, 
turn around and believe, 
that voice still cries in the desert,
the day of the Lord is at hand, 
turn back to God even though you have laughed and turned your back in the past, 
(crucify him...We have no KIng but Caesar!)

No, not me, not by far. 
No, not me, not by any measure, am I the one who knows it all, 
nor do I have nothing to repent from. 

I am healed. 
He is not dead. 
He is not for sale. 
He cannot be bought, 
everything is paid. 

He was not alone when the Spirit led him into the desert. 
He was not alone when he was tempted to give in. 

He did not turn the stones into bread. 
(He could have.) 
He did not worship power or dark desires.
(He refused to give in.) 

He chose not to live by bread alone. 
He chose to worship God and God alone. 

"Repent"
Before he said anything else, He said, "Repent!" 
He still says, "Repent!" 
The Kingdom of Heaven is still at hand! 
Coming closer and closer, 
asking to be seen and embraced. 

T.S. Deary 
2/22 - 2/23/23