Post by brooklet on Sept 18, 2006 8:55:11 GMT -5
THREE CHAIRS
Three chairs
Rest side by side
Empty
Each bears a name
A child absent from my embrace
But not my heart
Though they reside on a carpet of living green
Enfolded in light’s embrace
Gazing steadily upon waters
Running gently … still
Peace is not their portion
Or mine
Empty chairs
Never having know their presence
Yet their wavering image fills each
As my heart’s gaze lingers there
Three empty chairs
Filled with lingering burdens
Trials, pains, sufferings
Life’s tutors
In the journey of their faith
Empty burdens weigh down my soul
Deplete my spirit
I see amiss
Not three empty chairs
But three Isaacs
And three altars call
Dare I listen
In the darkness of Abraham’s night
To the sacred Voice speaking my name
Will I resist obedience’s freedom
Preferring the shackle
Of my own loving
Wishing it the sacrifice to which I’m called
Easier sacrifice
My own understanding
Martyr to burden bearing
But the darkness of Abraham’s night
Will not be silenced
The sacred Voice still speaks my name
Knowing well the pain to which obedience calls
Offering to be my soul’s balm
Himself knowing the knife’s cutting edge
Promise’s pouring out
The night awaits
An answer
Dare I lay my Isaacs down
Entrust them to Sovereignty’s thicket ram
To I AM’s care
That better offering than myself
Who knows no burden
Three empty chairs …
Within my open hand
Three offerings
Each bearing an absent child’s name
Side by side
On pastures green
Gazing on Living Water
Poured out for them
© DeAnna L. Brooks
5 August 2006
Three chairs
Rest side by side
Empty
Each bears a name
A child absent from my embrace
But not my heart
Though they reside on a carpet of living green
Enfolded in light’s embrace
Gazing steadily upon waters
Running gently … still
Peace is not their portion
Or mine
Empty chairs
Never having know their presence
Yet their wavering image fills each
As my heart’s gaze lingers there
Three empty chairs
Filled with lingering burdens
Trials, pains, sufferings
Life’s tutors
In the journey of their faith
Empty burdens weigh down my soul
Deplete my spirit
I see amiss
Not three empty chairs
But three Isaacs
And three altars call
Dare I listen
In the darkness of Abraham’s night
To the sacred Voice speaking my name
Will I resist obedience’s freedom
Preferring the shackle
Of my own loving
Wishing it the sacrifice to which I’m called
Easier sacrifice
My own understanding
Martyr to burden bearing
But the darkness of Abraham’s night
Will not be silenced
The sacred Voice still speaks my name
Knowing well the pain to which obedience calls
Offering to be my soul’s balm
Himself knowing the knife’s cutting edge
Promise’s pouring out
The night awaits
An answer
Dare I lay my Isaacs down
Entrust them to Sovereignty’s thicket ram
To I AM’s care
That better offering than myself
Who knows no burden
Three empty chairs …
Within my open hand
Three offerings
Each bearing an absent child’s name
Side by side
On pastures green
Gazing on Living Water
Poured out for them
© DeAnna L. Brooks
5 August 2006