BREATHE
Breathe the air of freedom:
The cleansing winds
of the Spirit of Christ.
Take deep draughts
of heaven’s fragrant breath.
Find rest for your soul.
Breathe in.
Breathe in deeply.
Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category
These verses are adapted from an earlier song I wrote,
“I Don’t Serve a Dead Man”
HAND-HEWN GOD
Priests of Baal danced round an altar of stones
chanting prayers; crying aloud,
but their hand-hewn god heard not a word
from the frenzied, pleading crowd.
A block of wood or stone can’t speak;
no entreaties can it hear.
There is only one Almighty God,
only One Lord to revere.
History tells of seers and philosophers
claiming they could show the way.
Now all are gone; their lips are stilled.
You can find their graves today.
But don’t go looking for the tomb
of the man called Jesus Christ.
His body lay there three short days;
then the stone was rolled aside!
Rome’s seal upon the stone was torn.
Now the vacant tomb is proof
That Jesus is the Living Lord;
in him resides all Truth.
Stop seeking for your future
among the graveyards of years passed.
Call upon the Son—the Living One;
let the past remain the past.
© 2011 by Dennis D. Kemper
MORNING HAS BRIGHTLY DAWNED
Isaiah’s vision (Isaiah 9:2) Matthew’s declaration (Matthew 4:16)
Despairing humanity,
deceived descendants of rebellion,
stumbling in the dark,
following twisting, stone-strewn paths
under the unearthly illumination of black-light,
treading among pale shadows
in a reversed reality of occult light
and glaring darkness,
have been
astonished by a sudden brilliance,
stunned by the rumbling eruption
of a towering fountain of light,
shamed as the white flames of purity,
indiscriminate, unsparing,
revealed tattered clothing
and grime-smeared bodies.
The bright vision spoke.
Do not be afraid.
Unwilling to return to the lands of twilight,
many stepped directly into the radiance.
Hot beams pierced flesh.
Consumed old rags;
swaddled in the glory of new creation,
until, like all children of the Light,
they could no longer be hurt by the flames.
They who were within the fire
Now found the fire burning within them.
Again the vision spoke.
Do not be afraid.
I AM the Light of the World
No longer will you walk in darkness.
Despairing humanity,
deceived descendants of rebellion,
existing in the bleak country of
unknowing exile, laboring under the hollow gaze
of the Overseer whose name is Death,
have seen a Great Light.
Its glare has washed from the heavens
All lesser suns.
Its unchallenged power has thrown open
the formerly barred gates
of unending day and unceasing life.
The long night has passed,
itself cast into darkness,
and Morning has brightly dawned.
© 2011 by Dennis D. Kemper
SANCTUS SANCTUS SANCTUS
(Latin for HOLY HOLY HOLY)
Spirit most holy, by
Archangels attended
Not seen by eyes of flesh
Concealed in cloud and fire
Tabernacles among
Us in the wilderness.
Satisfies our hunger in the desert
How may a mortal approach your throne?
One cannot look upon your face and
Live; neither can one enter into
Your presence if any uncleanness be found in him.
Spirit of Wisdom
Ageless, Timeless
Nothing hidden nor
Concealed from your eyes.
Teacher of righteousness
Unveiler of
Secrets and ancient mysteries.
How marvelous, how wonderful you are. If
Only I could walk with you in the
Luxuriant garden in the cool of the day as
You once did with your first human children.
Spirit most tender
All giving, all forgiving.
Nurturing mother
Caring for her young.
Taking no pleasure in their distress
Unwilling for any to perish, casting their
Sins irretrievably into a bottomless sea.
Has anyone ever manifested mercy as vast as your mercy?
On a day of night-darkness and terrifying thunder your love
Lacerated the temple curtain from top to bottom. Into
Your presence, where nothing is hidden, I come.
© 2011 by Dennis Dale Kemper
THE WIND AND THE WORD (CREDO)
If there were no love from the Father,
From one on whom all creatures depend,
My works would be meaningless;
My labor be in vain,
And I would be chasing after the wind;
I would be chasing after the wind.
I believe in the Father Almighty.
If there were no Son of the Father;
If there were no sacrifice for sins,
My hopes like dry grass would burn;
Dreams perish in the flames
Their ashes would scatter before the wind;
Their ashes would scatter before the wind.
I believe in the Son of the Highest.
If there were no Comforter Holy;
If tongues of fire never did descend,
Then I would be drifting like a
Ship in driving rain
Blown here and there by the ever-changing wind…
Blown here and there by the ever-changing wind.
I believe in the Spirit most Holy.
•••
I believe in the Father Almighty
Whose Commanding Word brought all things to be.
Yet who in love reaches out to rescue us
And casts all our sins in the deepest sea.
I believe in the Son of the Highest
The Word made flesh on this earth to dwell.
Born of a virgin to die as the Paschal Lamb;
Then, rising from death, broke the power of hell.
I believe that the Spirit most Holy
Indwells the hearts of those who believe.
Teacher and Counselor, He leads us to Jesus
And helps us remember The Word we received.
© 2011 by Dennis D. Kemper
CROSS OF IRON
A cross of iron, a cross of gleaming brass,
Of gold and silver, one’s net worth laid bare.
A cross of rough carved wood or crystal glass,
Of jewels set, on fire, star-like, its glare.
It matters not which cross you choose to wear,
It’s just an X inscribed upon the earth,
Cut broadly, yes, but scratched in mortal dirt
And meaningless, unless one wills to search
For Truth; not empty hopes or hollow words.
The cross must slash its shameful pattern deep
Into the heart. And yes the heart will bleed
And it will die. For pain awaits the bearer of,
Agony, the wearer of His Cross,
Yet those thus marked are truly free indeed.
© 2011 by Dennis Dale Kemper
STORM
Let the fire from heaven fall;
may your mercy fan the flames,
and your love like windswept blaze
burn to ashes all my shame.
*****
Let the heavenly cannon roar—
the concussion felt beneath the walls
of my fortress proud, secure—
set me free as the stonework falls.
*****
Let the breath of heaven fill
the slackened canvas, where too long
I’ve sat becalmed, stores running low;
before the wind, Lord, bear me on.
*****
Let grace outpoured from heaven swell
streams and rivers till the sound
of living waters’ music fills
the silent plains of barren ground.
© 2011 by Dennis Dale Kemper
