Sermon Notes Poetry: 2 Thessalonians

Maybe you know who started all this poetry-during-sermons stuff. And who followed suit. Then, like another wise soul has said, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

If my pastor ever reads these, he will know I was listening. Sort of. I apologize (sort of) for chronicling his sermon on 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12 by adding my odd daydreams to his earnest words.

Question

Where does
the truth lie,
in what back room
does it spread itself
flat to the floor
and pretend.


Injustice

is coffee beans
never finding their way
to your grinder
or a French press,
but instead pouring
like brown pearls
into a dolphined sea.


Apocalypse

Jesus will come
with flowers
and blazing angels,
blast the little herb garden
into bloom.


Everlasting

destruction is
saying the garden
is okay, it is just
okay. Take your
bouquet of blazing
angels and put it in
the neighbor's yard.
I will watch from
the back window.


Guilty

Do we know, did we want
to know, wouldn't we
rather stick with the oregano
leaning, sage sprawling,
rosemary scrubbing the
edge of each day?


Watching

Through the window,
nose pressed
to rippled glass,
could I have any
sense of what
I was missing.


Long-Term Perspective

If I unlatch the
wrought iron gate,
Jesus will grow in me,
and the heat of his fiery
eyes will set the tips
of my petals aflame.