Mother Nature’s annual Easter sermon; Blackberry Jam

The Gospel According to Spring
Mother Nature’s annual Easter Sermon

It was as if somebody died.
For three months we have grieved.
We’ve mourned for flowers dead and gone
and trees that lost their leaves.

The gloom of winter gripped our hearts
as Boston caved to snow.
Our frozen lawns were lifeless brown.
Our plants refused to grow.

Death’s shadow fell across the land.
We sorrowed for our loss.
The toll of winter just won’t quit
exacting quite a cost.

But come this weekend life bursts forth
from winter’s icy grave.
Spring is creation’s metaphor
for One who came to save.

Spring pictures resurrection truth.
Yes, death has been defeated
because God’s plan to prove His love
outrageously succeeded.

Blackberry Jam
Hilary’s not-so-smart phone use

Hilary is in a jam.
Her Blackberry’s to blame.
Her hands are stained and now the gloves are off.
The media has picked a fight.
Both parties have joined in
and Mrs. Clinton’s found the going rough.

Her knees are buckling jelly-like.
She stands, but can she run?
This email scandal could derail her dream.
Her smart phone tactics were quite dumb.
She put us all at risk.
No wonder her chief critics are quite steamed.

Looking back at Selma fifty years later

When Barry was a boy of three
the Selma March made history.
Our nation’s first black President
could not have then conceived
how much that Bloody Sunday nailed
the plight of those unjustly jailed.
Barack would only later see
the milepost it was.

That march would help to bridge a gap
in which young gifted blacks were trapped.
It blazed a trail through “no man’s land”
to reach a voting booth.

The march of progress has been slow
and there is still so far to go.
In spite of strides we all have made,
God weeps at what He sees.

Yes, after half a century
a King’s dream of equality
remains a nightmare haunting those
who long for righteousness.

Through what I do and what I say,
Lord, may I be a bridge today
providing love the means to walk
with freedom, grace and hope.

* In case you didn’t get to watch our President’s speech in Selma, here’s a link. What “Ask not what your country can do for you” was for JFK, Selma was for Obama.

A prayer for a city that’s been tested

Boston’s strong
but Boston’s weary,
weary from the snow.
Weary from a “rain of terror”
from two years ago.

Weary of the endless suffering,
weary of the pain.
Weary from the fear that haunts the
victims who were maimed.

As the wheels of justice start to
turn and bring relief,
Boston’ strongest still admit to
grave gut-wrenching grief.

God in Heaven. You alone can
help this city heal
from the wounds and from the weather
with which they now deal.

The cracks in the Capitol Dome aren’t the only cause for concern

The D.C. dome is scaffolded.
It needs support to stand.
The cracks and fissures found inside are deep.
Our Capitol is crumbling.
Its cornerstone’s come loose.
From where he sits the sight makes Lincoln weep.

Republicans and Democrats
breathe in the toxic dust
ignoring what seems obvious to me.
The rifts and constant rancor
put democracy at risk
as those elected dodge falling debris.

Can’t those in Congress get along?
Is it too late to try?
What happened to respect within those halls?
Repairs indeed are needed
and it’s bound to take some time
if we ever reinforce once hallowed walls.

A reflection of our Heavenly Father’s love

That little girl we nurtured
as a child takes the stage,
a silver tube pressed loosely to her lips.
The sounds she makes amazes,
both melodic and serene.
In my head I hear her friends say, “Lauren rips!”

Her tone would make James Galway
stand on tiptoe and take note.
Years of practice have paid off and I’m so proud.
While it’s freeezing here in Knoxville,
I am warmed by what I feel
as I sit back most contented in the crowd.

Yes, a parent’s pride’s permitted
when your grownup child excels.
Pride is proof that love is beating in your heart.
It’s a natural expression
of what cannot be contained.
It’s the fruit of what’s been growing from the start.

And the pride that I am feeling
is a picture of God’s love.
He delights in me because I am His son.
Being me, I feel His presence
though I cannot play the flute.
It’s enough to know He loves me having fun!

* This was written on the frigid February evening in 2015 when my daughter Lauren Star Asimakoupoulos gave her graduate flute recital at the University of Tennessee School of Music prior to obtaining her Masters degree in flute performance.