Remorseless Draft

The places where we've been, of course,
Are often filled with deep remorse
Until, that is, He turns them around,
Transforming them to fertile ground.

For s--t morphs to fertility,
Then life emerges bold and free,
If we'll just let the TCK
Play out with Him in His new day.

I started out with all the s--t,
Put it all down, exposed all it;
Then let Him fill the picture in
With more than just remembered sin.

The art, REM-D, and poetry
Enabled me the mess to see;
And then its context, shifts, and morphs,
For those of us who'd left the North.

I saw the impact of His hand
In my safe place at camping-land;
I saw a maturing shifts and change;
I saw us all within the range –

Of what we all go through in life,
Despite our lot and place through strife;
The horizontal plays on out,
With vertical's diverting route.

It brings to mind an aeroplane –
The P-140 where I trained –
“If all else fails, let go of stick
It's built to level out of it”.

So if you've got some altitude,
And things spin through vicissitude,
Let go, and stop correcting acts,
And use that aeronautic fact.

So in our chats I just pressed on,
Said “how ’bout this?”And it was done;
A road-block blown through this and that,
Another draft – imagine that!

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