Salvation Creek

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Venture into
that thorny place
a crowd of 10,000
“Glory, hallelujah!”
the preacher’s son
raises a fist of damnation.

A god-like
Holy Ghost happening
he walks the aisles
calls your name
kisses the son of Judas.
——–
In the wilderness
a call to drown
the sin inside, arise
an army, a god-like strength
prepared to battle
you and I.

Earth remains
unknown struggles reside
sordid pain
drowning
knees unable to rise.
——–
God scatters the flock
His sacred hunger satisfied.
You pray
the river surface breaks,
the people floating down
Salvation Creek.

God raises his fist
His thoughts
are not our thoughts
scatters the flock
prepared to battle
you and I.

Americana

“Stop the car!!!!”  I really did not say it that way.  I was much more polite. Here is how it really happened.

“Ooooh! look at that quaint gas station.” I wearing a smile from ear to ear.  Sitting in the back seat (daughter sat up front) I quickly recited a silent prayer he would pull over.  My husband, always so gracious, let off the gas peddle, bringing his hands slight left, asked “Want me to stop?”

“YES!!!!” 

A spur-of-the moment road trip ensued Saturday morning, 7-1-2017.  I packed my camera, a road map (really a GPS but that just sounds unromantic) water and strangely we were off.

It was the perfect way to spend a leisure day, driving along the back roads, where 1300 S intersects with 150 E, on Indiana Hwy 18, a place where life once happened.

May the sound of freedom be heard around the world!  Happy Fourth of July!