Moccasin flowers

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You are so small
But when you open your body
You can suck in the whole life of universe
You become one with the universe
That is how you can give life back to it
You do not die
Thousand years ago
Somebody praised you in the morning
This morning again, I see your beautiful body in the morning sunlight
Then I know
Your are a song and an instrument
I can sing and play you without touching
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How majestic is your power!

How majestic is your power, O God!

You created light first
with all the colors in it
and shared them in all of your creatures
How generous you are, O Lord!
You created sun, moon, and stars
Helped them to move around in this vast universe together
connected and not alone
How humorous you are, O My Master
You trusted us and entrusted all those creation to us
like infants we just play with them
forgetting all the jobs and tasks in hand, we made mess
How forgiving you are, O My Savior
you have forgiven us and is forgiving
knowing that we will not get better, we have been born with sins
You still love us and trust us
When I look around all the beautiful creation of yours
When I feel the warmth and freshness of your messangers
I praise you,
I trust you,
I confess that you are my all!
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Mother

Mother, I have seen things only my eyes see

I did not see your works
Mother, I have known things only my mind perceives
I did not understand your love
Mother, I have praised flowers, birds, even other women
I did not praise you enough
Mother, I should have known better
Now I see how small I am
Mother, blow over me
burn me
shout to me
Thrive with me
I want you to be with me all the time.
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They are still alive with us!

All the saints who passed away

relive their lives in our dreams
They live in our narratives
They live in our songs
They become our songs
They appear in our poems
They disappear in our sighs
All the saints who passed away
come back to life in our churches
They live in our worships
They bless us with their presence
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Waiting for Easter

Without all of you, I am nobody.

With all of you, I am somebody.
You are the ones that make me me.
With you all, I can live one more day.
Some day I will die
Then I will become a story that you can tell
I will become a song that you can sing
I will become an image that you can picture
Now I am still working on that story
A story of a pastor who loves his ministry
A song of a father/husband who sacrifices all for the family
An image of a friend who smiles all the time
Help me to finish this story
Walk with me to compose that song
Talk to me to paint many pictures
On Easter I will meet the risen Jesus with all of you.
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Ash Wednesday

Dust to Dust

Ash to Ash
Remember that you are dust
Going back to dust
Cross on my forehead
Sinner redeemed by the blood of Christ
God’s beloved child
Hope for the reconciled community
Cross in my heart
A branch of a vine tree
connected with other branches
Cross in my feet
One line of morning poem
Cross at my wrist
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For Ruth

I am gleaning fallen grains

in a field in a foreign land
to feed a poor widow that I love
I am a poor widow myself
in a foreign land among strangers
gleaning grains of hope
Without my plan and knowing
Boaz comes along to the field
Naomi figures out the hidden plan of God
Then I met the invisible God
in my womb
where hope grows and future starts
I am just a poor widow
gleaning love in a foreign land
surrounded by foreign friends celebrating the birth of new life with me
Life is no longer Ruthless
I am no longer poor widow
I am a proud mother of a child
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