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