From Where I Sit

Up on the high majestic hill,
stands one great mighty oak,
that seems to mimic something else -
a world of prideful folk.
Some think that sin is not so bad,
they think it's overblown -
but I can feel that screaming wind
from Satan's megaphone.

Oh, we all know man's clanging wars -
his taxed and tortured slaves -
his used, abused or beaten spouse -
the sinful life he paves -
that plow up God's great symphony
with Adam's clumsy ox -
and pummel us with angry words
or painful, sinful rocks.

But God's created orchestra -
all people, black and white -
all babies born (or soon to be)
and elders have a right -
a right to live on God's great earth
in peace and harmony.
But pride seeks greater powers and
rejects humility.

From where I sit, I always see
His beauty deep within,
His loving, graceful handiwork -
though plundered so, with sin.
God's handiwork from birds to fish
and mammals great and small -
still bless me with their beauty here.
I see His work in all.

And when I think my Loving God,
has nothing more to give -
He pours out love in greater grace,
so ready to forgive -
where even I, through heavy heart,
so tearfully repent -
and seek that perfect sacrifice,
who God already sent.

A rhythm rolls with springtime breeze
across this valley pass -
right over meadow here below
and through His humble grass.
In unison, harmonic notes
from orchestra below -
yet wave to those on mighty hill,
where folks still need to know...

This poem was a finalist in the August 2012 poetry contest