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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

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savior

Trial of the Ages

Call the crying critics in,
Tell them to declare their lies.
Stand of strengthened soul within
Holds Him silent, burns His eyes.
“Blasphemy!”, what they accuse
With their pointing fingertips
Is the very thing they use,
Slipping from their lying lips.
Though the saintly sadists yell,
Nothing shouted stands. But still,
Who He is will not compel
Victim to assert His will.
Jesters juggle Him, the same,
Through their hoops of pain and pride,
And He claims a kingly name
Though His servants flee His side.
Soon His flesh will break and tear,
As He promised them it would,
And He calls not legions there
To defend Him, though He could.
He will hang upon His grave
And permit their taunts, that He
May no longer call us “slave”
And true Children let us be.
Call the crying critics in,
They will watch the Lord arise!
Stand of strengthened soul within
Names Him victor, burns His eyes.

– s. Clark

Broken, But Whole

I’d rather be vulnerable, raw, broken-down,
I’d rather be bent with my face to the ground,
Swallowing pain with the salt of my tears,
And watch as my precious-held pride disappears.
I’d rather be shattered, and battered upon
I’d rather be fractured, and learn to hold on
To the hand of the One who gives every good thing
I’d rather be dashed at the feet of my King.
I’d rather I crumble, be bruised all within,
And learn to be humble, to cling close to Him
I’d rather accept that I’m precious, but flawed,
And learn to survive on the breath of my God.

– s. Clark

Mighty Arms

Mighty are the arms that hold the child, safe and warm
The voice that warns the wolves away and breaks the demon’s will
How marvelous the iron wings that shelter her from harm
And yet can bear her up in flight. If safety can instill
A courage born of ever-trust, then brave is she with You
Who holds her. Wrapped within Your love, she never needs to fear.
Her spirit within Yours is all she needs to make her new
And she will move in power, for she knows her Lord is near.

– s. Clark

One Day Soon

One day soon

The darkness will have had its time,
And in one fell and joyous tear,
Love’s hand will lift us from the grime.
The hurt that we know now will cease,
The scars and stains of earthen wear,
Will be at once replaced with peace.

The corporate failure of the fall,
The underlying fear and shame,
The deep injustice known to all,
Will slip away from soul and thought,
As each of us is called by name
To Him for whom we each were bought.

The ties of bitterness and grief
Will suddenly be cloven down,
And spirits soaring in relief
Will fly, all rising for the stars.
And each of us will bow to crown
The One who knows and cleansed our scars.

One day soon.

– s. Clark

From Drowning, Saved

The darkness, in its swallow-grip
That holds her underneath the waves
And that would, she should know, consume
But for the reaching hand that saves

To grasp that hand, she must perceive
A light that sears her swollen eyes
The pain so great, that she would wish
To turn and choose her own demise

But oh that hand! That burning light!
That will not let her sink to death
But rather scorch the hateful dark
That steals away her sobbing breath

A soft caress upon her eyes
That tells her she can bear the sight
And, undeserved, a rising hope
To join, and live, and breathe the light!

To be! To live a purpose grand
To break free of the leaded tie
To dance amidst the storm, and laugh
At feeble death. In Him, to fly!

– s. Clark

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