Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 28, 2012
He had always hoped something in his life
Would be fulfilled and rounded out
Different than today’s dribs and drabs
Something complete unto itself
Beginning middle and end
Clearly marked out from before
Distinguished from what followed
Anyone seeing it or hearing it
Would see purpose and intention
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 27, 2012
I was a boy in love with adventure books
Pirates cowboys explorers warriors
Resiliently on disasters’ edge
Sailors forever going down to the sea
In a place with little resemblance
To the New Bedford I knew
But the courage still there
As the fisherman took their boats
Out of the harbor to ride out the hurricane
That took the roof off the church
As I sat in a window across the street
On their return I listened closely
To understand Newfoundland’s cadence
As they sat in Aunt Charlotte’s living room
Above the grocery store she owned
Where the Captain bought supplies
For the next Georgia’s Bank trip
Laughing voices described waves
That could easily have swamped them
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 26, 2012
Before he was crucified Al-Hallaj said I am God
He understood the wine and the goblet as one
United with the hands that hold them
As if the Trinity were all things connected
The Creator manifest in the universe
The Savior immersed in human possibility
Infused and bound by the Holy Spirit
With everyone from all times in the past
And all times into the unknown future
Saved by the crucifixion that unites God
The world of nature and all of us
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 25, 2012
Rome the City of Man
Render unto Caesar...
For all the Roman gods
Justice was Caesar’s
Saint Augustine’s Rome
The City of God
Justice rendered to
Saint Peter’s church
In Medieval cities and towns
Churches towered over all else
Bells rang to begin and end days
You can tell the nature of a place
By the tallest building in town
Puritans hoped to build
Their City on the Hill
A new Eden’s capitol
Look around you
What do you see
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 23, 2012
Despite capitalist transgressions
The revolution aged like its
Rebels’ no longer taut bellies
With their raucous books
Become tired testaments
To unfulfilled miracles
Mired in moral turpitude
And self aggrandizement
The banality of bureaucracy
Unable to get out of the way
Of inevitable change
As institutional righteousness
Usurped socialist intention
To raise up the downtrodden
And subjugated them with
New and different chains
Pages
