Cowboy Across From Me
by Lincoln Rogers ~ Denver, Colorado
He was there once more,
across the table... listening.
Sunlight poured through a
western window,
setting ablaze silver hair,
reflecting in experienced vision,
thousands more days witnessed
than I have ever seen.
Solid hands of leather,
scarred and rough with heavy use,
belie the skin of his soul --
tender as morning,
fragile as dew on a single blade or
faltering first steps of a newborn colt.
I brought a gift for him again,
Truth of Living Word,
and watched
as his soul unwrapped it with
trembling fingers and lighted eyes,
excitement like one young,
holding it up to the light --
it is Light itself --
before clasping its wonder
deep within his chest in quiet celebration.
He reminds me of God�s love,
this cowboy across from me:
inspires me,
one reason among myriad
I return each Wednesday evening
to this group of friends --
this Bible Study --
sharing what God has wrought
in my life
at every opportunity.
(I Peter 3:15)
�2003, Lincoln Rogers
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Every Time
by Lincoln Rogers ~ Denver, Colorado
I thought of it again today,
and that same
uncontrollable weeping occurred.
Not because of the abuse --
the back of hands, fists, whatever --
or the despair of a shortened life.
I read a story --
it was written a while ago --
how his own brothers
made fun of him,
and I could relate to that.
But my tears didn�t fall
because of any family dysfunction.
His homelessness affected me,
I�ll admit it,
but not enough to arouse my grief.
What really seizes me,
every time,
is the violent end to his life.
How when he was being murdered --
I read this and I believe it�s true --
He forgave them,
me,
all of us,
forever.
Jesus Christ...
I�ll never get used to that.
"Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."
-Jesus of Nazareth, Luke 23:34a (NIV)
�2003, Lincoln Rogers
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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