pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Redeemer

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

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

IN PERIL

twig-789619_960_720

This shining city on a hill
Has but a flicker of goodwill.
Our homeland’s in profound unrest;
Precarious as a young stork’s nest.
No longer held in high esteem …

Yet pray’ers pray, and dreamers dream.

Our brethren’s blood runs through our streets.
Unwelcome history repeats.
We’ve chosen shady and debased
To fill an office that’s disgraced
While haters hate, and schemers scheme.

Still pray’ers pray, and dreamers dream.

But God grants vision to the blind,
Redeems the lost; restores mankind.
His faithfulness is unsurpassed,
As through it all, His love holds fast.
My hopefulness remains agleam …

While pray’ers pray, and dreamers dream.

© Marie Elena Good, 2016