Martin Jack


I listen for Him
out of hearing in the underground
spaces I breathe for

uprising space inside
where He arms me against
a speech of thorns

like a reformed army
newly fitted in prayers that bind
the undertow, spitting

out bushels of comfortless vandalism
with the speech He gives
before dark

an idea of my present future
my whole being rapt
to His expanse of torchlight

where positivity
must be
lived out

Martin Jack © 2007