Adventures in the Word

We walk down halls with unobstructed views,
they call us constantly through windows clear,
and yet we focus on our cluttered rooms
while misty mountain vistas disappear.
Our papa sits ensconced, removed, his eyes
are on his food. My siblings – silent now –
their missing conversations eulogize
the death of life that could have been allowed.
My neighbor sits alone, his fridge is bare,
he numbs himself with fantasies galore –
I know, but can I face my lack of care
and walk outside to knock upon his door?
Our modest Bethels, where God erects a stair,
they often find us humans unaware.

– David Herin

Noah’s rainbow arced across the sky
against the darkened east horizon,
receding from the setting sun – golden
and bowing low to the higher sign –
the fragile arch waves triumphantly.

The red to violet spectrum dares
us reach and touch its colors,
now suspended, embedded in air,
surely such stunning splendors
need not dazzle long, they’re quickly gone.

And in among its folds –
if you could get up close to see
the colors deep between the hues
of red and orange, what a sight you’d
see of umbers and ochres and blends of gold.

Without warning colors fall in line,
they know their place, then just as quickly
break their ranks of fellowship,
not waiting long for us to see
the bridge that spans the heavenlies.

How can the rainbow stand so still
when built on a million falling drops,
each one a tiny crafted lens
that beams a thread of light
to form the Master’s exquisite bend.

Can you drink this iridescent wine?
it offers up its rarest vintage,
and invites us up to sit
at her atmospheric table and sip
what cannot yet be felt by hand.

To what end do giant arcs of color serve
anyway? Do they guide or warn or inform
us, or do anything to help or harm
us? or do they simply stand as silent
signs of an otherworldly generosity?

– David Herin

The deepest blue September sky
quickly blackened, billows overhead,
and crowds of faces open-mouthed
and speechless, sped away.

We huddled ’round our bedroom’s 13-inch
TV and stared at the insistent sight;
our kids stood for an hour in the room
but really couldn’t understand why.

Our initial thought: ‘accidental crash’
crashed and burned with tower two,
the repeated scene, just minutes in between –
our hopes fell under the towers’ debris.

Is human evil still so hard to see?
A glance at our own history
should have warned us sufficiently,
so why are we blind to the black in ourselves?

The depth of our depravity
is only matched by beauties
lovingly made with our own hands,
admittedly angel nor animal are we.

But Evil donned its unpretentious mask
to hide its ugly open sores –
who can unmask this silent beast –
who can pay his just abhorrence?

Maybe only One could fully face
Evil’s fiercest fury unleashed
from Cocytus itself, sealing
hell’s destruction by the One’s ‘defeat.’

– David Herin