Wednesday, May 25, 2011

At a Stoplight

Driver's eyes drift right,
Finding rest from brick and concrete
In the expanse of live oaks and manicured lawn
Speckled with tablets and statues
Of bronze, marble, granite.

Today the green is interrupted:
Six feet past the wrought-iron fence,
A sandy-haired man in glasses, beige plaid, and khaki
Stands, arm wrapped around a matching woman
In tunic and capris.
She holds one hand to her eyes.
The other wrist links to a taut red leash
And a dachshund the color of Irish breakfast tea.

Embarrassed by the dog's averted gaze,
Driver, too, looks away,
Silencing radio banter.
Red light and prayers blur together
Until the quick again rush past
The grieving and the dead.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15, NASB).

Until the risen Christ returns and all tears are wiped away, compassionate tears and prayers for our suffering brothers and sisters are also part of living as Easter people, of practicing resurrection.  My prayers join yours for the people of Oklahoma and Joplin, Missouri, not forgetting those in Alabama, in Japan, and in the persecuted church worldwide.  May the Lord strengthen the suffering and comfort those who mourn.

Considering in community what it means to live the Resurrection...

and seeking to write on redemption themes with the good folks at Emily's...


  1. You really stopped me in the moment. Sounds like a true stoplight on more than one level.

  2. @Amy Yes, I suppose it was. Thanks for that insight.

  3. I'm imagining the scene in my mind right now...

  4. @Lisa notes... Imagination is a gift, isn't it? That I could still picture the scene more than a year after observing it, that readers who didn't see the original could still form some sort of image of it in their minds from words,... Truly God did make us wonderfully.

  5. A very vivd poem - you really pull out strong images.

    Thanks for the the quip.

  6. i can feel the power of the moment even in the silences. (and, i fancy myself a ragamuffin, too) :)

  7. @loriThank you, Lori. Always good to meet a sister ragamuffin. :)

  8. A tender moment of life, surprisingly shrouded in grief. So much of this around the world these days. Lord have mercy!

  9. What a tender and almost awkwardly intimate moment you captured. Well written, Tinuviel. I really liked the Irish Breakfast Tea colored Daschund.

  10. Thank you, withgraceandgratitude and joybird. It was a tender moment, awkwardly intimate and grief-shrouded. I'm so happy you grasped what I attempted.

    The couple's grief felt so exposed and vulnerable to me, that close to the road. That provoked both curiosity and prayers.

    We never know where God will meet us even in a routine day, do we? God bless you both.

  11. This is a lovely poem. Sometimes we do need to be stopped in our tracks and reminded of the heaviness of our world. Sometimes... but not too often, eh?!

  12. @Kati patrianoceu Yes, we need the hope Christ brings to the heaviness, too. :)

  13. so, so, so well written. i was pulled into the detail of the tea-colored dog and the radio and prayers blurring... really enjoyed this friend. thank you.

  14. @emily wierenga Thank you, Emily. That means a lot to me. God bless you, friend.


Thank you for sharing your day with me! Your presence here is a gift. *You* are a gift. Right now I am unable to reply to every comment, but please know I read and pray for each and every commenter. Grace and peace to you in Christ.