Received by Teeth

Wounded and festering, in a corner.

Hiding pain from all, licking wounds.

Pushed back into dark so that none can see.

Snapping teeth at any that passes by.

The infection continues as the body wastes.

A man walks up and kneels nearby;

with a hand out reached, received by teeth.

Undeterred he speaks to try and calm;

with a hand out reached, received by teeth.

Pleading is the man, his help the only healing;

with a hand out reached, received by teeth.

Still the man beseeches, calling by name;

with a hand out reached...?

All content copyrighted ©; 2017 William McDonald

Death

Loneliness and grief and pain and strife,
brought about at end of life.
Light goes dim in once bright eyes,
when the world is pained as one dies.
No more pain is felt by he
but left are loved ones in pain to be.
Yet deaths defeat is guaranteed,
by the King who does redeem.
His death was thought to bring reigns end,
but it turned to be upon what all depends.
In the midst of three mourning days,
Light re-lit as life regained.
With this hope King's loved one hold,
that death's touch not a permanent hold.
Soon we will enter our eternal rest,
Who is our King, us clothed in his best.

All content copyrighted ©; 2017 William McDonald

Yield

Change me
Humble me
Make me new

Help me
Equip me
Empower to do

Refresh me
Sustain me
As grass is by dew

Shape me
Transfix me
Yielded to You

All content copyrighted ©; 2017 William McDonald

To Synagogue I Go

Weighed down, bent over, demonic oppressed,
ridiculed, in pain, and much embarrassed. 
To synagogue, to Synagogue did I still press;
but much was done to slow my progress.

18 years my oppressor has tried to bar my way;
but faithful to synagogue I endeavored to stay.
Much wickedness and deceit were leveled at me;
in worship I pressed hopeful for the healing to be.

Young men once were sent with evil mirth.
In violence, I was thrown down to lay on earth.
I struggled to rise as the laughter's distance grew.
On I pressed with desire to worship anew.

Then there were dogs with teeth all gnashing;
crippled and bent with no hope of dashing.
With stick for walking I managed one cudgel.
One blow enough, hearing God's word thus enabled.

Then there were women that sneered and jeered;
"who would ever hold someone so ugly as deared?"
Embarrassed and broken I traveled and cried;
still resolved to seek God even if never a bride.

The children would run near hoping I would fall;
singing songs of how glad I was not mother of them all.
Shamed, weighed down with destined vacancy of womb; 
I beseeched the God of Sara and Hanna for life to enter this tomb.

Seeking comfort and hope from those who rule synagogue;
rather got conviction and disgust, them wishing I was gone.
Rejected by the culture of man and beast alike;
to synagogue I go, God's law my only hope of light.

To synagogue I go again like any day;
cursed with all hope beginning to wane.
However, this Sabbath day there was new energy in air;
a new teacher has come, and its Jesus that's here. 

Standing in back and I thought out of sight; 
but saw me He did and called me through crowd of spite.
Never more scared and embarrassed was I as then;
but move forward I did with faith stretched thin.

Nervous and shamed I stood before Him; 
back bowed down in perpetual bend.
Never has shame and guilt attacked so fierce;
wanting to flee: I stood, held in place.

Never for me had a face such compassion amass;
as if He known all the pain of my past.
Then His sweet voice sounded, redefining identity
"Woman, you are loosed from your infirmity."

And then something happened I could not explain.
King, Savior, Messiah touched me extinguishing all pain.
My soul exploded in praise and exhalation;
with back straight and arms raised for first time to heaven.

Awe filled the atmosphere, but soon turned to hate.
Due to Sabbath day, they said my healing should wait.
Messiah intervened and set religious leaders straight;
He would not allow wickedness to use me as its bait.

All content copyrighted ©; 2017 William McDonald

Equipped

Child, where be the helmet made by me?
Forged with blood upon wooden beam.
Wear always for salvation's assurance be.

Is that your shield on yonder tree?
Now how you fall back when you are meleed;
in hand is its place, only then fiery darts flee

Is breastplate and belt under rags and fleas?
Never such a gift before given for free;
uncovered and exposed all darkness will flee.

What's this, no shoes and all bloody toes?
When you were given shoes no year knows;
yet unshod you roam on spikes laid by foes.

This equipment was given so you persist;
yet rather you toil to enter my rest.
Now study for use the sword, I do insist. 

Into Mountainous Ring

Newly clothed in raiment by the King,
I descend into the mountainous ring.
With shield in front and back exposed,
sword in hand with readied pose.

The wyvern of old destined to face,
it lures man with tail's hypnotic trace.

Venom of desire its most deadly vice.
All that embrace do so at heavy price.

When lust fails to lure resolve away,
to rage does allure give way.
It shoots the darts of its fiery might,
to which shield impedes deadly flight.

Folly it is to stand and not fight,
to engage with sword reveals King's might.
The dragon lashes out to slash with claws,
hate in eyes and gnashing of jaw.

The fight is long as the battle wains on,
destined to lose, still hate fuels Apollyon.
Whenever knocked down by might crushing down,
the King sends men and the beast is bound.

When refreshed from above the battle resumes; 
with resolve I press and deliver a great wound.
The fiend seeing my victory is nigh;
to flee, away he does fly.

All content copyrighted ©; 2017 William McDonald

Doubt

Fog rolls in and hides the path;
once so sure was I of footing's hold.
Now each step is a feat of math;
no longer taken in confidence bold.

Assurance wained in mind's wandering;
lies and noise from deceivers of old.
Moving towards hopes sure beakoning;
confused, I transverse narrow road.

Sounds of circling wolves in pack,
I cry out I am all alone.
At last remembrance of light in pack;
feet need no longer to roam.

Whisper

There is a whisper not by ear I hear,
ignites old coals and burns away despair.
I strain to see the speaker so near;
But with eyes too dim, I rejoice to hear.

It brings new life and breaks deaths hold,
a voice that transcends all that is old.
He brings the proud to broken knees;
and stands the meek, from which evil flees.

Upon his fiery tongues the foundation laid,
messengers sent proclaiming price paid.
His words bring refresh to those hopeless,
clothing the broken in Christ's righteousness.