ire

anger entices us
with slow-burning songs of gall
and impatient rage,
but you delight in those whose
good nature comforts the hurt.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

bee

in life’s spelling bee,
too often humility
is rendered hubris,
and grace easily misspelled
with reed following the G.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

 

author

sometimes my life seems
an easily rhymed poem,
but mostly it is
a cut-and-paste job of an
ancient text lacking vowels.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

summer showers

convinced of our certainty,
we drive full speed through life,
and as grace begins
to fall gently against our souls,
we turn on the wipers
to brush it aside.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

now

now, Lord, don’t let us
wrap the Separated Ones
in day-old papers,
like we have the Homeless Ones
and the kids who starve each day.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

zero

when we are silent,

families are torn apart,

fear-slingers talk loose,

there is zero tolerance

for compassion, hope, and grace.

 

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

cut from the same cloth

believing the Word

is found in every person,

we value each one,

yet ignore the rock, tree, air

brought forth by that very Word.

 

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

monday, monday

its Monday, Monday,

and as we craft what to-do,

if sharing justice,

offering mercy, and love

are not the list - start over!

 

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

 

pieces

we should not treat folks
like old pennies we don’t use,
or redundant parts,
but as essential pieces
we need solving life’s puzzle.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

 

seedless

seems your words are a
rationale for cruelty,
or angry responses,
and thus, they become weapons
rather than seeds of justice.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

omgf

Jon facing chemo,
Jill heading to her third job,
kids torn from parents,
while so many celebrate,
for some - OMGFriday!

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

you

in coming moments
and those already misplaced,
in gentle silence
and table conversation,
we will find a presence – you.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

wholly, too

in the person who

takes a neighbor to chemo,

reads with little ones,

and shares veggies with food banks,

we meet the holiest saints.

 

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

wholly

in the little child

who takes delight in puddles,

playing make believe,

and spinning in wide circles,

we meet the holiest saint.

 

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

rummage sale

each day, you set out
‘free for the taking’ tables
groaning with the gifts
we need – hope, peace, laughter, grace –
but we just keep driving past.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

family

help me to see the
illustrated teenager,
the crabby neighbor,
the anger-slinging bozo
as folks i am to embrace.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

jabbok

after arm-wrestling

with your hope-filled dreams for us

time and time again,

we walk away with a limp

in our hearts you know too well.

 

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

when you pray

sitting inside my
comfort zone so i can pray,
i am protected
from your drenches of grace, and
the bracing breeze of justice.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

ammas and abbas

holy ones are not
two-dimensional stained glass
figures, but those who
welcome rough sleepers as friends
and learn from the forgotten.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

holy ground?

seeking holy ground,
we might want to remember
it is the place where
clay-footed folk take off shoes
to walk where garbage is thrown.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

forgive us . . .

to be forgiven
is to be willing to live
with that word of grace
offered by the one who sets
down any and all grudges.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

as we forgive . . .

in forgiving, we
choose to share in God’s nature,
whose weakness is grace.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

hineni

you call us, O Lord,
to listen to hope’s whispers
but how can we hear,
surrounded by angry talk
and our fears raging within?
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

nocturne

in the middle of the night
when our loneliness is wide awake,
you curl up next to our heart,
your peace purring softly
      to our souls,
till we fall back to sleep.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

and then

and then, there are those
people we think we don’t need
or have to care for
since they offend us so much;
Lord, in your mercy, change us.
 
© 2018 Thom M. Shuman