pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Redeemed

SHE CALLS HERSELF AN ADDICT

butterfly-1127666_1280

I suppose when cravings for poison
introduced in past moments of pain
threaten to pull you to ocean’s floor
and you remember the relief of
oxygen to your lungs,
you might find it irresistible, this temptation to
breathe –

even if it is one breath.
Even if it threatens
to fill your lungs with death.

But she –
she would rather not breathe

than return to the venom her body craves.
She would rather hold her breath,
while waiting for her Redeemer
to meet her in the depths.
To lift her face.
To breathe life to her very soul.

She calls herself an addict.

I call her a child of the God who Saves.
I call her brave.
I call her inspiring.

I call her friend.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

The Bloodstained Cross (Sonnet for Simon of Cyrene)

IMG_0975

Image credit:  http://catholicinbrooklyn.blogspot.com/2013/03/meditation-on-fifth-station-of-cross.html

God’s word says little of this man:  A Jew,
Pulled from the crowd to carry Jesus’ cross.
I wonder what he felt, and what he knew.
What ‘Jesus stories’ had he come across?

The Passover perhaps had drawn him there –
A dispersed Jew, returned to celebrate,
Who suddenly now had a cross to bear?
So little known.  So much to speculate.

But he was there, as God had preordained,
And I can’t help but think that he was stirred,
To look into the eyes of one so maimed,
Still full of grace. God’s only Son. God’s Word.

Oh Simon, what an awe-inspiring role …
You touched the very blood that saved your soul.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

ADDICT (sonnet for a friend in distress)

forward-2349168_960_720

She doesn’t fit the image in your head –
The one my title planted in your brain.
She’s quilted patchwork, fondly stitched bedspread.
She’s warmly welcomed gently falling rain.

She’s selfless soul and kindness above all.
Her prayers are like symphonic rays of sun.
When help is needed, she’s the one to call –
She’ll set distress aside for anyone.

Her nights are filled with terrorizing dreams;
Her days besieged with raging drug demands.
While patchwork stitches strain along the seams,
Her trembling heart is placed in Jesus’ hands.

If you are without sin, then cast your stone.
But He?  He will not let her stand alone.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

Israelite’ish

12718153_10153811329421351_1168068422088427939_n

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

Tell me again
how You parted
the waters
that threatened my soul
to sink.

Remind me
the healings
when reeling
from lie’s ink;
death’s brink.

Retell the hell
from which
you snatched my feet.
Unseat untruth
I tell my past.

I ask, let’s talk
of solid rock
that drenched the earth
and quenched
my thirst.

Recall for me
the blood-soaked tree –
the guarantee
you set me free

from me.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

THE GOD I KNOW (a sonnet to my Savior)

13091901_10154003359141351_4276658190002327733_n

Bleeding Heart Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

I used to think I knew the God I know.
But over time, I’ve come to know Him more.
More intimately close than long ago,
I’ve learned more of this Heart I can’t ignore.

In part, I’ve come to recognize my sin
As more egregious than I had before.
This veil of righteousness is wispy thin,
For I am but a sinner at my core.

The realization of the heart of God,
Whose love spilled blood for even such as I
(A seemingly good woman, deeply flawed),
Just makes me long to praise and glorify

The One who drew me to Him as a child,
In whom I’ve grown remarkably beguiled.

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

Oh, For a Crown to Return

12993567_489094851279580_5414926821786458139_n

PHOTO BY REBECCA TRUMBULL PHOTOGRAPHY

A tortured, thorn-crowned costly love –
Above, sun-darkened firmament.
Below, the Man on cursed tree hangs –
Birth pangs of earth. A curtain rent.

My Lord became my sin for me –
His skin was scourged; His soul besieged.
His Father turned His face away –
Their plan unchanged since first conceived.

What great a sacrifice was made –
The price was paid, unmerited.
For though I’ve sinned against my God,
His riches I’ve inherited.

Implausibly, He holds a crown
For my unworthy head to bear.
But I will lay mine at His feet –
My heart replete; my answered prayer.

© Marie Elena Good 2016

When Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe, Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!” ~ John 19:5

 I am coming soon. Hold fast what you have, so that no one may seize your crown. ~ Revelation 3:11