Posted by on Jan 20, 2010 in Reflections | 12 comments

White-out 

Let's see, there's Silence, The Power and the Glory, Crime and Punishment, The Great Divorce, just to name a few – all books that not only blew me away with their brilliance but shook my soul awake with their raw and unforgettable illustrations of repentance and forgiveness.  These transforming experiences I've had via literature reveal again and again and again to me the salvific potential of the written word.  I like writers who aren't afraid to tell it like it is, who don't shy away from the messiness of life and love – the "grace and violence" of humanity. They remind me to never ever assume I've figured out the mysteriousness and pervasiveness of God's mercy.  I want this: to spark a fire of hope and resolve in another the way I've been prodded repeatedly from out of a spiritual stupor by men and women brave enough to neither water down nor sugar coat the Truth. That art can transcend our base frailty, that any of us can act as a beacon despite (because of?) our utter lack of confidence in ourselves, is a wonder.  

And Then There Is That Incredible Moment,

when you realize what you're reading,

what's being revealed to you, how it is not

what you expected, what you thought

you were reading, where you thought you were heading.

Then there is that incredible knowing

that surges up in you, speeding

your heart; and you swear you will keep on reading,

keep on writing until you find another not going

where you thought—and until you have taken

someone on that ride, so that they take in

their breath, so that they let out their

sigh, so that they will swear

they will not rest until they too

have taken someone the way they were taken by you.

 

- Kate Light


I took the above photo (I'm wide awake: 72 of 365) first thing yesterday morning.  


Read other poetry HERE