Shigé Clark Writing



Deep Calls to Deep

Today’s poem: Deep Calls to Deep

In tribute to Jill PhillipsAndy Gullahorn, and most especially to Andrew Peterson, whose songs call to God’s Spirit in people and the world in a way that I do not yet have words powerful enough to adequately extol. This poem has been brewing in my heart for a while, but after attending The Local Show the other day, and getting spiked through several times by the truth in their music, I just wanted to do something to say thank you.

So, though words are not enough, thank you.
Deep Calls to Deep

The Dragon

The Dragon

Truth Pending

Pending Truth



Theme Week: Loving Yourself – 2


It does not do to dwell on the ugly,
Though we all surely have it within,
The grime that we all feel inside us,
All the scars strewn out over our skin
But, you know, there must also be beauty,
Though you say that you only see dirt,
There is music and magic and moonlight
Where you feel only anger and hurt.
And I know that you look at yourself, dear,
Finding nothing worthwhile to prize,
But I have a vast secret to tell you,
If you manage to block out the lies
If I lean very close, and I whisper,
Will you heed my small voice in your ear?
If I promise to keep my words gentle,
Can you open your soul up to hear?
If I told you your heart was a treasure,
And how worthless you feel, a façade,
For the price to win your love and beauty
Was the blood and the breathe of a God
Because long before you saw the ugly,
Knew yourself deep enough to feel guilt
There were galaxies raised to enchant you,
And his love is what ordered them built.
If I told you that you are so precious
There has been a decree by the king,
That for you there be sunshine and oceans,
And flowers sent to you in spring.
You are made up of stardust, eternal,
You are stunning and strong as the earth.
Please know, when you feel unimportant,
Not a soul here can measure your worth.

– s. Clark


Stand up your shattered bones
And tell them they must walk.
Reweave your stolen vocal cords,
And learn once more to talk.
Instruct your greying eyes,
“See beauty once again”
Reach out your hand to halt the sun
And wipe away the rain.
Insist that winter cease
And bring at once the spring,
Banish the night with its fell chill,
Command the birds to sing.
I know you want to heal,
You’re only at the start.
And as with all good things on earth,
You cannot rush the heart.

– s. Clark

The truth lies under skin of trees,
In gentle breeze,
In microscopic cells.
The truth shines, burning from the sky,
It strikes the eye,
And silently compels.

– s. Clark


Someone tell me that there is hope
Still left to wake the world,
That in the voices lost to scope
Remains a victor’s chance.
And tell me, have they sounded yet
The woeful call, “Retreat”?
To pull back hands that have been set
Upon the tired task?

I have not heard them cry the call,
Yet look how fast we flee!
And leave the stoic few to fall
Abandoned at our heels.
How can our moral ears abide
A people’s dying gasps,
While we, disgracing all our pride,
Give up before we’ve lost?

Now let us rip the curtain back,
The wizard bear his face!
That we surrender, in our lack,
Before we face the charge.
I cannot bear the hollow chest
That marks a craven soul
Of one who broke the line when pressed
To let conviction die.

– s. Clark

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