Poem Inspired By Arnold Allen’s Work
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.
(2 Corinthians 7:7-9).
Artwork by Jo Scott.
The shine somehow
gets through the scars.
We don’t always recognize
the when’s, whys, and hows
of the light bleeding through.
It’s just the thing light must do.
Toughened ragged skin,
Burnt over and over again.
Raspy with the cutting
and curling of age.
Every scrape and wound
from life’s infernal blade.
Still, light’s eternal nature
causes it to slip through
the cracks, running
like rivulets of glory
down our backs,
peeking from
between our toes,
glistening from our fingers,
a strange kind of gold.
Yet, we are tempted
to hide behind a veil,
to conceal the gloried
treasure in this fragile shell.
The pricking, the prodding
leads to ultimate crucifying.
Then the glory has no choice
but to just spill right on out.
Onto the street,
perhaps a dance floor,
any empty space,
or dry dusty crevice.
It simply matters
no more.
Your will and mine
intertwine,
a simple embrace,
Converging this
glorious shine.
To neighborhoods,
villages, countries,
and towns.
Nothing can shut
this lighthouse down.
Light is a healer
Light is a fighter.
Light is a candle
to the wanderer.
Light is a weapon
to the warrior.
A defender
against the
shadowlands.
Light is my
constant companion.