A Lasting Gift

Have I rubbed off the shine

Have I undone the bow

Is this love still new

With a Christmas-morning glow?

Does it now fall apart

Will it now be replaced

Is this love still working

Or was our promise a waste?

Is every day a new one

Is every night our last?

This love is the only gift

That gets better with each day past.

-Geoffrey Griffard

The River

I have known you

as I would a river—

I walk the shores,

can see the rocks

in the stream,

have tasted,

swam in,

floated down,

but you flow on—

I am left with

the two shores

of who I thought

you were.

-Geoffrey Griffard

Early Morning Resurrection

We stumble bleary-

eyed into heaven,

hung-over from life,

stinking of garlic, onions,

the sweet earth that

devoured us

a million tiny bites at a time

as we lay in the big bed of Death;

dreamless sleep

undisturbed by noisy neighbors,

snoring, or alarm clocks—

oh, Jesus,

there goes that trumpet

(more like a goat bleat)

calling all deadheads to rise—

I throw back the earth

cursing the early hour,

then lay back for a ten-minute snooze.

-Geoffrey Griffard

Partake

I partake of your

garlic BBQ fried potatoes

offered to me in purity,

salivating at the thought

of our communion.

Is it wrong to crave your body?

It saves it saves it saves

benedict me, resurrect me

give me your holy roasted

honeyed word

to help me live right

like a salty saint

boiled in oil

oh so holy crispy

wispy cotton clouds

drift past the Son

and we block our eyes

when He returns

all golden brown

dripping his sacramental juices

partake Partake AWAKE

-Geoffrey Griffard