Issue III: Labyrinthine Poetry and Prose
God is Within Her, She Will Not Fall by Angela Hooks
September 9, 2018
September 9, 2018
Folly knocked on her back door. She turned away, meeting Wisdom at the front gate.
Wisdom taught her God gave her power, love, self-control and sensibility not fear.
She laughed at Folly.
Folly returned as she stepped off the front step. He winked and made promises.
She feared a lack of self-control. Folly followed her, attempted to hold her hand whispering
in her ear, false hope of material things: Gucci, Jimmy Choo, Net-a-Porter shopping spree.
Folly followed her to church. Hands lifted up. Mouth full of praise. He mocked her. Folly
gifted her with silver & gold, a steak dinner and polite conversation.
The Spirit reminded her to get wisdom and choose insight, stop listening to Folly's godless lips tell lies. At every turn, Folly took liberty with pet names: babe, honey, sweetie. He claimed
to be loyal & loving. She remembered a wise person draws from the well within.
She watched Folly's charm buy wisdom, but never understand instruction. Folly ran off
at the mouth without thoughtful discourse. Chatter centered on him. Folly said: “Me. Me. Me. Take my picture. I did this & I bought you that. Show your friends my gifts to you.”
Wisdom warned her that God examines man's motives.
She fled from Folly, turning back to God's promises. She resisted Folly. God gave her a spirit of self-control & love not fear. She looked fear in the face and laughed. God saved her from ill-gotten gain, removing all shame.
With God, she chuckled courageously and boldly in the face of Folly, and committed her plans to the Lord. The Lord planted her on solid ground. She wrote down God's victories: Because of Jesus she’s victorious, filled with confidence, overflowing with joy.
She knows in the face of her enemies God fights for her. He gives her strength to battle giants, lions, and bears.
Wisdom taught her God gave her power, love, self-control and sensibility not fear.
She laughed at Folly.
Folly returned as she stepped off the front step. He winked and made promises.
She feared a lack of self-control. Folly followed her, attempted to hold her hand whispering
in her ear, false hope of material things: Gucci, Jimmy Choo, Net-a-Porter shopping spree.
Folly followed her to church. Hands lifted up. Mouth full of praise. He mocked her. Folly
gifted her with silver & gold, a steak dinner and polite conversation.
The Spirit reminded her to get wisdom and choose insight, stop listening to Folly's godless lips tell lies. At every turn, Folly took liberty with pet names: babe, honey, sweetie. He claimed
to be loyal & loving. She remembered a wise person draws from the well within.
She watched Folly's charm buy wisdom, but never understand instruction. Folly ran off
at the mouth without thoughtful discourse. Chatter centered on him. Folly said: “Me. Me. Me. Take my picture. I did this & I bought you that. Show your friends my gifts to you.”
Wisdom warned her that God examines man's motives.
She fled from Folly, turning back to God's promises. She resisted Folly. God gave her a spirit of self-control & love not fear. She looked fear in the face and laughed. God saved her from ill-gotten gain, removing all shame.
With God, she chuckled courageously and boldly in the face of Folly, and committed her plans to the Lord. The Lord planted her on solid ground. She wrote down God's victories: Because of Jesus she’s victorious, filled with confidence, overflowing with joy.
She knows in the face of her enemies God fights for her. He gives her strength to battle giants, lions, and bears.
King David by Ann Christine Tabaka
September 15, 2018
September 15, 2018
Uninhibited, David danced
before the Lord,
wildly and unashamed.
Clashing cymbals, beating drums,
fueled the passions of his heart,
as the Ark lead the way.
Author of the Psalms,
girded with linen ephod,
bare arms flailing to the music,
he praised his God,
His exuberance could not
be contained,
even while being chastised.
His lineage was blessed
for all eternity, for the only
begotten son would herald
forth from his house.
And, so today we dance still,
for God loves a joyous heart!
Edenic by Sanjeev Sethi
July 14, 2018
July 14, 2018
In letting go we grant
ourselves growth. To
be connected without
worldly connections
is one way. Ensiform
gratification no longer
quickens me. Fulfill-
ment in Fata Morgana
fails to ignite. In His
scent is soulfulness. He
is the crossword I enjoy
unriddling. Rhythm in
His refrain plugs into
inner prosperity.
ourselves growth. To
be connected without
worldly connections
is one way. Ensiform
gratification no longer
quickens me. Fulfill-
ment in Fata Morgana
fails to ignite. In His
scent is soulfulness. He
is the crossword I enjoy
unriddling. Rhythm in
His refrain plugs into
inner prosperity.
God is Refuge by Eyethu Mfazwe
June 21st, 2018
June 21st, 2018
People look for a walled structure or a place that
will protect them from the harsh elements of
the weather and shield them from their enemies
This is stated in Psalms 71:3
"Be thou my strong habitation,
whereunto I may continually resort:
thou hast given commandment to save me;
for thou art my rock and my fortress."
God, is he who protects us from Satan's plans
and He is an eternal refuge
His refuge is stronger than concrete structures
and walls of iron
His protection is ever present
as stated in Psalms 91:9-11
"If you make the Lord your refuge,
if you make the Most High your shelter
No evil will conquer you;
no plague will come near your home
For He order His angels to protect
you wherever you go."
God provides us with the strength to face our
challenges as written in Psalms 18:2,
"The Lord is my rock,
and my fortress, and my deliverer;
my God, my strength, in whom I will trust;
my buckler, and the horn of my salvation,
and my high tower."
God is the only refuge that lasts longer than the physical
structures and protects people
physically, emotionally and spiritually
It is better to trust in Him to protect you to
trust in man-made good.
will protect them from the harsh elements of
the weather and shield them from their enemies
This is stated in Psalms 71:3
"Be thou my strong habitation,
whereunto I may continually resort:
thou hast given commandment to save me;
for thou art my rock and my fortress."
God, is he who protects us from Satan's plans
and He is an eternal refuge
His refuge is stronger than concrete structures
and walls of iron
His protection is ever present
as stated in Psalms 91:9-11
"If you make the Lord your refuge,
if you make the Most High your shelter
No evil will conquer you;
no plague will come near your home
For He order His angels to protect
you wherever you go."
God provides us with the strength to face our
challenges as written in Psalms 18:2,
"The Lord is my rock,
and my fortress, and my deliverer;
my God, my strength, in whom I will trust;
my buckler, and the horn of my salvation,
and my high tower."
God is the only refuge that lasts longer than the physical
structures and protects people
physically, emotionally and spiritually
It is better to trust in Him to protect you to
trust in man-made good.
A Shook Fowl, Shuddered by Michelle McMillan-Holifield
June 2, 2018
June 2, 2018
I'm done being my own leader. Arrange
me as Your follower. I step; beat down
the path before me. Anchor me when I crave flight,
when Fear, that foul beast, fixes my mind as his base
of operation. My craven heart begs to be a fowl,
fled, shed of life, this parched
field. What course do You have for my parched
feet? What recourse for a fragile woman arranged
in fear? So weak, I fear following You. A shook fowl
shuddered. You say Walk, I perch. I beat myself down
afraid of strangers who might debase
me, who, hating me for Your sake, might take flight
against me, bite, frighten me into flight.
Fear stuffs my jaws like cotton. I’m parched:
throat clothed, clogged, mouth bound. I want to base
my life on You. Stake Your claim on me. I’ve ranged
directionless too long. Upheave, set me back down.
Let me no longer fear Fear. Let me not run afoul.
Make me free. Cleanse my foul
temptations. Declutter. Better me. I’ll fly
given the chance. Unchance me. Break me down.
Repuzzle me. Set fire to my parched
soil. Resoul me. I submit my reins. Arraign
me. Fool the beastly Fear. Fear: basis
for all my wavering. I’ve been a fool, based
my life on nods from others. Foul:
my craving for approval. If approval strayed out of range
I chased. If it eluded, I took flight,
clung to it like a predator. Was left parched.
Left void. I left pieces of myself everywhere. Face down.
I would not recognize me. Come down
and re-piece me. Deliver me and all my base
parts back home. Cool my parched
tongue with your living water. Break my fall
when I waver, mid-flight.
Rake me back in when I soar out of range.
You have rearranged me. I have stood, lain down,
freefell mid-flight; left my haven; returned to base.
Been and been called foul. Thirsty, but no longer parched.
Running by Babatunde Babafemi Babawale
June 1, 2018
June 1, 2018
This beautiful rum
was where my soul departs
inside the fingers that weave me
into a man.
If anything of a man
remain inside this body
I assure you,
Its an empty bottle of broken cork.
For every sip
I break into laughs about my past:
My Father want me a sailor; but I was a woolly sheep,
I feared sea water and ships,
So I ran away from home,
unto the street that bear
the insignia of
"Luke 15:11-32"
there I was lost,
Finding myself
inside each coin tossed
at my feet.
What do I do with my breath
that has become filth?
Every cold night my heart become stiff,
till I become a body without a man.
Don't let my father find me
He died the day he long to see me,
His headstone needs my flower
I will be going with a cactus,
& he will know I've grown to love water,
A beautiful rum.
was where my soul departs
inside the fingers that weave me
into a man.
If anything of a man
remain inside this body
I assure you,
Its an empty bottle of broken cork.
For every sip
I break into laughs about my past:
My Father want me a sailor; but I was a woolly sheep,
I feared sea water and ships,
So I ran away from home,
unto the street that bear
the insignia of
"Luke 15:11-32"
there I was lost,
Finding myself
inside each coin tossed
at my feet.
What do I do with my breath
that has become filth?
Every cold night my heart become stiff,
till I become a body without a man.
Don't let my father find me
He died the day he long to see me,
His headstone needs my flower
I will be going with a cactus,
& he will know I've grown to love water,
A beautiful rum.
Tomb by Linda Imbler
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018
Indian empress
In majestic palace.
Pharaoh,
Colossal pyramids and valley of kings.
Chinese emperor
Under protection of enormous, imperial army.
Abbeys and churches,
Splendid, kingly.
Czech ossuary,
Decorative bones create glorious ambiance.
Immense Irish mounds,
Green and grand.
Parisian and Italian catacombs,
Lambent flames of candles illuminating.
Monuments to presidents and monarchs
Visited by heads of state.
Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
Represents otherwise forgotten victims of wars past and present.
City cemeteries,
Vaults and mausoleums dot the landscape.
Family graveyards,
Tombstones detail ancestral history.
Solitary, unmarked graves
On purpose or not.
Mass graves,
One of the spoils of war.
A small, dark grotto,
Once covered with a rolling rock,
Now empty.
Its former resident
Watches over them all
From his vantage point,
Watches over the living
And the still entombed.
Faith's Eyes by Veronica Haunani
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018
He loved the Lord, and he thought the Lord loved him.
He had a good job at a soap factory. He had a loving wife and family. He had dear friends.
Then, he started having to squint to read the newspaper. Thinking he needed glasses, he went to the eye doctor and then an eye specialist. He found that the soap fumes were slowly blinding him, and he would fully lose his sight in the next few months. The blindness was irreversible.
He lost his job.
His wife, unable to cope with his depression and his increased drinking, took the kids and left him.
His dear friends were so pained at seeing him ruin his life that even the non-fair weather friends deserted him.
He left his home taking whatever he could fit into an old soap box he kept from his first days at the factory.
He became a nomad travelling from place to place and drink to drink.
On a very cold, January day, he found himself alone and freezing. He fell into a deep sleep on a church step.
He began to dream.
In the dream, he could see! He was sitting at the foot of a man he understood to be Jesus. Jesus was smiling at him. At first, he turned away from Jesus.
Jesus, still smiling, asked, “Why do you turn from me, my son?”
“’Cause you took my sight, my family, my friends. Everything I had. You made me a homeless drunk! And, all I did was love you! Why would you do this to me?”
Jesus reached out to him and touched his shoulder. Jesus’s warmth flooded through him. He understood what he had to do.
He woke to a pastor gently shaking him by the shoulder. He asked the pastor for a Bible. The pastor, surprised by the request, came back with a Bible, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cup of milk, and a list of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. It was the first time, he had been given anything. The small gifts moved him and made him secure that the dream had been a sign.
*****************
I saw him standing on a box waving his arms like a crazy bird. I walked to the other side of the street. I was in no mood to be accosted by an insane, homeless man.
I heard him yell to me, “Do you fear God?”
I thought, “I fear my Dad and the government and snakes. But, do I fear God? What does he really have to do with anything?”
I pretended I didn’t hear him.
Later that day, my step-mother called to tell me my Dad had died.
I felt numb.
As I walked home, I saw the man on the box again.
A voice like my Dad’s whispered to me to listen to this man if I ever wanted to feel again. The voice was so commanding I had to obey.
“So, what’s your story, old man?” I asked.
He smiled at me and said, “He made me blind, so I would see…”
He had a good job at a soap factory. He had a loving wife and family. He had dear friends.
Then, he started having to squint to read the newspaper. Thinking he needed glasses, he went to the eye doctor and then an eye specialist. He found that the soap fumes were slowly blinding him, and he would fully lose his sight in the next few months. The blindness was irreversible.
He lost his job.
His wife, unable to cope with his depression and his increased drinking, took the kids and left him.
His dear friends were so pained at seeing him ruin his life that even the non-fair weather friends deserted him.
He left his home taking whatever he could fit into an old soap box he kept from his first days at the factory.
He became a nomad travelling from place to place and drink to drink.
On a very cold, January day, he found himself alone and freezing. He fell into a deep sleep on a church step.
He began to dream.
In the dream, he could see! He was sitting at the foot of a man he understood to be Jesus. Jesus was smiling at him. At first, he turned away from Jesus.
Jesus, still smiling, asked, “Why do you turn from me, my son?”
“’Cause you took my sight, my family, my friends. Everything I had. You made me a homeless drunk! And, all I did was love you! Why would you do this to me?”
Jesus reached out to him and touched his shoulder. Jesus’s warmth flooded through him. He understood what he had to do.
He woke to a pastor gently shaking him by the shoulder. He asked the pastor for a Bible. The pastor, surprised by the request, came back with a Bible, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cup of milk, and a list of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. It was the first time, he had been given anything. The small gifts moved him and made him secure that the dream had been a sign.
*****************
I saw him standing on a box waving his arms like a crazy bird. I walked to the other side of the street. I was in no mood to be accosted by an insane, homeless man.
I heard him yell to me, “Do you fear God?”
I thought, “I fear my Dad and the government and snakes. But, do I fear God? What does he really have to do with anything?”
I pretended I didn’t hear him.
Later that day, my step-mother called to tell me my Dad had died.
I felt numb.
As I walked home, I saw the man on the box again.
A voice like my Dad’s whispered to me to listen to this man if I ever wanted to feel again. The voice was so commanding I had to obey.
“So, what’s your story, old man?” I asked.
He smiled at me and said, “He made me blind, so I would see…”
Walking on the Beach by R. Bremner
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018
I am walking on the beach.
It is late December, between
Christmas and New Year.
The night is brisk and cruel.
The wind on the beach shows
no mercy, whipping up
granules of sand to attack my face.
Cold confronts me, like an angry
jealous lover. I pull my hood
closer around my head.
At the Sand Dunes motel
they thought it odd
for a man alone to stay
at this time of year.
I offered no decipherable clues
as to motive or mind.
In the motel room at noon
I switched on the TV
Princeton-Rutgers in a big
time college basketbrawl.
Later I battled furiously with
sleep. I lost and had to sit up
for wasted hours. Nothing to
write about, my pressure rising,
no food served by the motel,
no desire to go out for some.
So now I am out here
in the wind and the cold
when not even sand crabs
venture on such a night.
The sea is loud, there is no
other sound.
This cold weather is weak
beside The cold of my soul.
There is some faltering light
downbeach behind.
Five minutes ago I
was compiling my list
of the year’s best LPs
But now I wonder why?
Who cares about my
likes and dislikes?
The key is that I
have no friends, no one
to care, my relatives lost
in whatever they call their lives.
And I further wonder
why I should not walk
proudly into this chill sea.
Who would notice,
who would bother,
who would look up
from their own circumstance to
ask why…
Some fifty yards or so away,
on the cusp of sea and shore
through the mist
and the blowing sands
there shines a light
strong and bright.
Not out at sea, where
a boat’s light it might be
but it is on a direct line
from the shoreline to me.
I stop my erstwhile
March into the Sea.
I want to find the source
of that light. It’s clear
and bright, and easily
within short walking distance.
I set out on my little quest.
But something strange happens.
Though I easily cover
the original fifty yards
the light is no closer
and though I walk and walk
it seems the same distance away.
Finally having walked a good hour
and growing weary in my legs
I have to turn back.
I am now a good mile
from the Sand Dunes motel
and if I don’t turn back now
I might never make it.
So back north I push
my tired legs onward
through the cold night.
I have by now decided
To put off all thoughts
Of plunging into the
dark, cold sea.
Now all I want is a hot
beverage and a warm bed.
But I realized suddenly
that the wind has died down
and I am no longer assaulted
by specks of sand.
As I trudge the long way back
I turn to see the light
and find it brighter than ever
even casting its glow
before my footsteps, making
it easier to walk.
I manage somehow to make
it back to the motel, exhausted
and I glance back at the light
gratefully, as if to thank it
but it has gone.
At the motel, I query the desk clerk.
“Must be the Barnegat Lighthouse,”
he assures me. “To the north
it was, you say?”
“No, to the south. It
first seemed fifty yards away
but it seemed to be moving away.”
“A ship. It was out at sea, then?”
“No, no, it was onshore, and as I got
nearer, it got farther away.”
”A man with a flashlight. But if
it was going away, how could
it shine toward you?”
I leave him to the mystery, and
tired and hungry, make my way
to the candy machine and
then to bed. I sleep a good long
sleep and return home in the morning.
That was some thirty two years ago.
Much in my life has changed.
I married, had a son, had a long and
fruitful working life.
Now in my twilight years, I look back
at that night that changed my life
in so many ways. And now, so far
removed from that time, I have
an inkling of what was going on then.
Jesus was reaching out to me. “No, don’t
do it, don’t take your life. I am not
ready for you yet – it is not your time.”
His holy distraction saved my life.
And though I was an agnostic at the time,
He set me on a path to Him and His
Grace.
Life is indeed strange, but the most
surprising thing is that it sometimes
makes sense.
It is late December, between
Christmas and New Year.
The night is brisk and cruel.
The wind on the beach shows
no mercy, whipping up
granules of sand to attack my face.
Cold confronts me, like an angry
jealous lover. I pull my hood
closer around my head.
At the Sand Dunes motel
they thought it odd
for a man alone to stay
at this time of year.
I offered no decipherable clues
as to motive or mind.
In the motel room at noon
I switched on the TV
Princeton-Rutgers in a big
time college basketbrawl.
Later I battled furiously with
sleep. I lost and had to sit up
for wasted hours. Nothing to
write about, my pressure rising,
no food served by the motel,
no desire to go out for some.
So now I am out here
in the wind and the cold
when not even sand crabs
venture on such a night.
The sea is loud, there is no
other sound.
This cold weather is weak
beside The cold of my soul.
There is some faltering light
downbeach behind.
Five minutes ago I
was compiling my list
of the year’s best LPs
But now I wonder why?
Who cares about my
likes and dislikes?
The key is that I
have no friends, no one
to care, my relatives lost
in whatever they call their lives.
And I further wonder
why I should not walk
proudly into this chill sea.
Who would notice,
who would bother,
who would look up
from their own circumstance to
ask why…
Some fifty yards or so away,
on the cusp of sea and shore
through the mist
and the blowing sands
there shines a light
strong and bright.
Not out at sea, where
a boat’s light it might be
but it is on a direct line
from the shoreline to me.
I stop my erstwhile
March into the Sea.
I want to find the source
of that light. It’s clear
and bright, and easily
within short walking distance.
I set out on my little quest.
But something strange happens.
Though I easily cover
the original fifty yards
the light is no closer
and though I walk and walk
it seems the same distance away.
Finally having walked a good hour
and growing weary in my legs
I have to turn back.
I am now a good mile
from the Sand Dunes motel
and if I don’t turn back now
I might never make it.
So back north I push
my tired legs onward
through the cold night.
I have by now decided
To put off all thoughts
Of plunging into the
dark, cold sea.
Now all I want is a hot
beverage and a warm bed.
But I realized suddenly
that the wind has died down
and I am no longer assaulted
by specks of sand.
As I trudge the long way back
I turn to see the light
and find it brighter than ever
even casting its glow
before my footsteps, making
it easier to walk.
I manage somehow to make
it back to the motel, exhausted
and I glance back at the light
gratefully, as if to thank it
but it has gone.
At the motel, I query the desk clerk.
“Must be the Barnegat Lighthouse,”
he assures me. “To the north
it was, you say?”
“No, to the south. It
first seemed fifty yards away
but it seemed to be moving away.”
“A ship. It was out at sea, then?”
“No, no, it was onshore, and as I got
nearer, it got farther away.”
”A man with a flashlight. But if
it was going away, how could
it shine toward you?”
I leave him to the mystery, and
tired and hungry, make my way
to the candy machine and
then to bed. I sleep a good long
sleep and return home in the morning.
That was some thirty two years ago.
Much in my life has changed.
I married, had a son, had a long and
fruitful working life.
Now in my twilight years, I look back
at that night that changed my life
in so many ways. And now, so far
removed from that time, I have
an inkling of what was going on then.
Jesus was reaching out to me. “No, don’t
do it, don’t take your life. I am not
ready for you yet – it is not your time.”
His holy distraction saved my life.
And though I was an agnostic at the time,
He set me on a path to Him and His
Grace.
Life is indeed strange, but the most
surprising thing is that it sometimes
makes sense.
All by Deb Y Felio
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And all that is within me
All? There is too much
remaining unclean, without
sanctity
How could all be brought
forth to bless
anyone, much less
the One to whom
all is known
Unworthy is this lamb
to offer all
for in the offering
is the knowing
in the knowing
is the need
to offer it
all
to the Only One
who makes it
blessing.