Dust

A poem

Dear Readers,

I have been busy lately. Three weeks ago, I published an article on the Creo Quill entitled, A Face in the Crowd, in which I recounted an experience I had at the Louvre with a painting known as the Wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese. On Wednesday, I published another article, Paint the True Christ, reflecting on a scene from one of my favorite films, Terrence Malick’s A Hidden Life.

Finally, I wrote a poem for an Asbury Seminary chapel service that I wanted to publish here.

As always, if you enjoy my work, please consider sharing it with those you think might be encouraged by it.

Thanks,
Michael

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Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash

Dust

At five, I sit and watch
dust particles float
in a ray of light
that steals past
my window shades

To be a child
again awakened
to the beauty
of every blade
of grass, anthill,
and, of course,
pool of mud

God fashioned
man from mud
and so it makes sense
that boys should love
the mud like I did
digging trenches
during spring in the yard
so that streams
would spring up
in the wilderness

The Son of Man
spread mud over
the eyes of another
man who could not see
the dust particles
floating in the light

I sometimes ask him
to baptize me with mud
so that I can go play
at his house like I once did

a woman was tossed
down into the mud
by boys pretending
to be men before
the Son of Man

I watched him stoop
down and carve
from the mud
these words,

I will bring glory
from this dust