Down from the mountain’s euphoria.

 


You see him, Lord?

You see him?

For years this awful mess.

He scarcely can express himself

Can’t even wash or dress.

His antics get folks going

They fear what might come next.

He roars in hot frustration

Sore lonely and sore vexed.

The doctors see no answer.

Sedation and restraints.

The seizures come so quickly

He thrashes, then he faints.

And I the father helpless

Must stand and watch again

As fear and doubts disable

Your followers, Lord, your men!

Oh won’t you intervene, Sir

And make the darkness flee

And cause the sun to re-appear

For one poor lad, for me?


This one is true and from the Gospels.



Prayer is Jes Talkin’



I's here aginAn ah have so few woidsBut it's the gittin togethaMost mattasAh believe.


And You has the timeFathaAlways has the timeLookin down fromBrilliance an GlorySettin aside those angels' songsJes to consider ma squallinOr ma pleadin,


Ma thankin or my

Plain ole wonda.

Dis ole man

Done had many a hard job

Often cruel or stupid orders

From tha Man.

A spell in the joint

An keen ears an

A much sharpened shiv

Jes ta raise up the odds.

Afta dark.

An a wife and two chillen

Hardly knew me afta

The twelve year stint.

But you knows me

You stick in dere fo me.

And you brought

Some good folks

Crosst ma path

Prayin and heppin

An smilin folks.

Ah can almose smell

Yo Spirit on em.

Second chances and singin.

Friendly talkin nights

Clean woik now.

Ah sketches a little as well

Scenes of pain, hope or joy

Two of em sittin

Up now on the library wall

Folks considerin

Provin dis ole man

Sees an thinks

Feels an releases

Fatha you have ma devotion

Such as tis.

An ma good repote.

I love Ya

Gwine stop now ta

Read Psalm one-oh-seven.

Name-a-Jesus

Ayymann.

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