Let Them Come

“Let Them Come”

It was a day bursting with birdsong;
the light fresh and gentle on the eyes,
the fields wild with flowers.
A good day for life, for visiting villages.
A day begging to express its love.

And with the joy of a father,
I catch a child into my open arms;
sit down to hold another as an older one
crawls up my back and encircles me
with his small arms.

I see mothers holding up infants
shyly come forward toward me.
I smile encouragement.
I long to bless each and every one.

I flash a stern look at interference.
This is a moment for me, my enjoyment—
these are the little ones I love.
“Let the children come to Me.”
Put no hindrance in their path.

It is my joy— to lift them up,
hold them in my arms,
to kiss their accepting faces,
to tousle their tangled hair,
to see their eyes of fath and trust.
This is enough, this joy
to greet the road ahead.

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Into the Arc of Heaven

Into the Arc of Heaven
For Evan C.

From a single blue crayon clutched in chubby fingers,
a child now draws in hues unimaginable
in a spectrum far beyond what mortal eyes perceive.

His delight, his laughter sings
a butterfly takes wings from his new palette
and the drawing he lifts up
is to the Father we would love to know
as he knows now.

And the Lord who dangles him on his knee
and tosses him with glee into the arc of heaven
catches him with nail scarred hands
and lands a kiss on both his cheeks.

His fingers now play dot to dot with stars—
he sends one home, falling into his family’s lap.
A fragment of his heart rests there.

Darlene Moore Berg July 2021

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Silly Is…

Silly Is

Silly woman
reconsider this:
the world does not
start and stop
at your every whim.

Your blinking eyes
cannot make the clouds part,
sky turn blue,
or force the sun
to shine on your day.

There is no way the
grass will mow itself.
The dishes put
themselves away.
An unmade bed
stays unmade.

To receive a smile,
its best to give one
now and again.
Make it a full open smile,
not a wry twisted grin.
Say, ‘hello’,
shake a hand.
extend yourself—
be a friend.


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Dawn, The Third Day

Dawn, The Third Day

Psalm 130:7 “Then we said ‘Let’s go to the throne
of the Lord and worship at his feet’ “

Paused in awe, wonder
a daring disbelief/dawning belief
hands raise to brush the buckle
of his nose.

Fingers itch to rub
the coarse texture of beard;
splay to comb smooth the
tangle of matted, sleep-tossed hair.

And the woman, this woman
does not dare—something there
radiates beyond her understanding;
kneels instead to hold the precious,
naked feet—

damp with dew, splattered
with garden dust— and tears
she wipes away in memory
with her unbound hair.

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The Longest Sabbath

Saturday before Easter

Darlene's Poetical Pursuits

The Longest Sabbath Ever

“ and many women who had come from Galilee with Jesus to care for him were watching from a distance.” Matthew 27:55 NLT

Friday, before the sun sets
Red-eyed women gather, scatter
The rites to perform, the myrrh, linens

All afternoon, huddled together
in the darkness before the cross.
Their loss immeasurable.
Sobs punctuated with the jarring
of the earth beneath their feet.

Now wait in grief.
Bound by tradition,
Sabbath strictures
they cannot seek Him out.
Cannot wash and anoint the
battered body, the dear wounds.

Exquisite agony,
the waste of time,
forced inaction, inconsolable
the fiery need to be there, find his tomb.
Pay love’s last due.

c. 2019 Darlene Moore Berg

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Maundy Thursday: 2020 and beyond

Maundy Thursday 2020

The Passover moon full, tinted rose-gold
Rises, reflects light into a world shrouded in darkness.
A sphere of hope, a time of remembrance.
Exodus, the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

Salvation comes for a people once enslaved.
Hope shines for a people sheltered in fear.
Death is near. Life is here.
We huddle separated, together.

The cup of Salvation is in His hand.
We lift up our cups of pressed grapes
and sip His words, His sustenance into our own.
The cracked bread we consume, our daily bread,
His provisions for eternity.

“ I will lift up the cup of Salvation and praise the Lord’s
name for saving me” Psalm 116:13

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Entombed 2020

Did it rain in Jerusalem
tears streaking down from heaven
in an outpouring of heavenly
grief— mirroring ours?

Rain cold, steady
the wind chill driving us
to wait indoors, huddled undercover
watching the flickering firelight
the faint glow of candles
inside shuttered windows.
all night
all the long Saturdays,
the never-ending shabbat

an intermezzo
a world in mourning.

Who believes Easter is coming?
Who has faith life will rise again—
somehow, some when?
A promised resurrection

c.Darlene Moore Berg

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Lenten Rose

Lenten Rose

Your glory nods, curtseys close to the ground.
Anticipation of sorrows found?
Petals veil, hide your pointed heart.
First flower in spring, first sign of hope.
Stained in the crush of the Savior’s bleeding feet
you play your part.

c. Darlene Moore Berg

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‘Ice Day

What an ‘Ice Day

Seek shelter from the rain
that freezes all it touches—
remain undercover, indoors,
cozy by a blazing fire.
Admire from afar the crystalizing

A layer of ice forms, clings
enwraps every unprotected thing
and if I open up this window
after a blast of winter chill
will I hear the birds sing
darting to and fro the feeders
before flitting back to safety
in the cedars?

c. Darlene Moore Berg

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Son Spots

Son Spots

“ Look up at the sky and see God in a cloud” David Lehman

Empty yourself and gaze in rapture heavenward
contemplate a moment or two as the sun peeks
coming out from between the cumulonimbus.

An indistinct silhouette, radiant,
viewed in a singular photograph, halo’d by sunlight—
a figure appears poised above the planet Earth,
striking through a fracture in the clouds.
Arms open in blessing or welcome.

Could it be a reflection from a prior millennium—
Christ in ascension over the hills of Bethany
disciples’ faces raised in apparent awe?
Or maybe a premonition of prophecy,
the long hoped for return in His full Majesty?
Oh, let His Kingdom Come!

Possibly, anyone’s guess, a trick of shadows,
a figment of someone’s fertile imagination?
The image shared hand to hand, scanned into media.
Or could it be an intimation of what will be?
Envision Faith— not to be spurned the blessed Hope.
One day yes, all, everyone, will see together
His glory explode from the firmament
and all life, belief confirmed in Him.

“Why are you standing here staring into the heaven? Jesus has been taken
from you into heaven, but someday he will return from heaven in the same
way you saw him go.” Acts 1:11 NIV

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