P o e t r y

The Essence of Faith

Hi, I figure I'd better introduce myself first. My name is Danielle Salcedo, from San Antonio, Texas. I just started the MDiv here at Asbury. This poem is my attempt at capturing all of the feeling of transition to get to seminary.

"The Essence of Faith"

I’ve jumped from a cliff

Of a height unknown

Left everything I once knew as home

I’m wandering lost

Praying to be known by God

Struggling to find a place all my own

I twist as I fall

Suddenly the sky is not up

The ground is not down

I stand here alone

In the midst of a crowd

This journey I’m on

I don’t know where it ends

But I’m trying so hard

To follow God’s lead

To trust in his plan

And walk on behind.

And I know that this is

The essence of faith.

Danielle Salcedo

August 31, 2006

Spun

Spin whiskey to me in the cold, deep hills of Kentucky.  Smokey minds lie hidden and beyond my eyes.  I still can't see, can't hold, can't breathe, can't be.  Spin memories in this broken hull of life.  This hopeless hope and wonder of anything now called free.  It's too dim to dance, I'm too thread-bare to carry, but I'm free and so indeed.  Indeed, but too dumb to care it seems, or notice truth before me, some hope right beside my not yet healthy mind.  Forgotten in the deepness I am, weary from the travels and falls; from all hope, from any dream of me and my mind half-baked and drying in the sun.  Bring back this common interest, this quick blinding sun in moonlight.  Fast shadows fall double-quick in time.  I'm here, I'm out, I'm dreaming in the cold Kentucky hills, in the fast, still-born washes of the deepest back wood.  This is just the flow, the in-breaking rush of water-light, quick like a watershed memory in time.  A matchstick memory smooth and quick and flicked to burst forth light in all and less of me. 

Broke Down

Broke down, broke down
The wheels on the bus go round and round
Some hazy ride, some hopeful heart
Sitting in the front, looking back,
Looking forward, looking all around
It’s the places in the rear
I’m oblivious to – the formative past
That I can’t bring to mind
The failure to make sense blows my mind
And worn out pieces burn up and go flying

Broke down, broke down
Flat tire on the side of the road
A man pulls over, and he’s old
And looks kind – has some kind of
Sympathy for a single young woman
Who stares in the eyes of a nice old man
Who says, ‘Girl – you broke down!’
I smile sheepishly, ‘Yeah, I know …’
But on some level it’s deeper
On some level I’m broke

Broke down, broke down
The boundaries of this mind seem gone
Barriers of the heart seem higher than heaven
While barriers of the mind seem hardly visible
Through rubble and dust – this horrible rising
That blocks my view, coats my face,
Hurts my lungs as I struggle to cry
And embrace what it truly means to be broke down

So I stand in the midst looking up and looking out
Scanning the horizon as best I can
Searching the road for a helping hand
Needing both people and the God-Man
To say to me together, ‘Girl – let’s get this tire changed.
Let’s get you back on the road. Ain’t no need to stay
Broke down.’

Spring

     Fly as lightening flash before me; deep into the marrow of some bone and another day. 

     Blue like streams before me; streaked and diving to each new thing.

     Will this be the death of me, or will my heart ring another new tone; a brand new chime with the morning?

     Blue light streams before me; streaking silver on the dawn of this red sky morning.

     Sailing, life alert to this ever-wood clearing; under-brush still brambled in my mind though. . .

and I'm hearing all the cool breezes in my open ears.

What, When, Where, Why

What really goes on behind closed doors?
Behind landscaped lawns and middle class homes?
Behind any home for that matter, rich or poor?

When did this thing called community disappear?
When did we fall so far into selfness, deaf to hear the
Cries of the hungry, cries of the poor – physically, emotionally, spiritually?

Where do we go from here? How do we get back?
How do we move forward? How do we unlock the front doors of others,
Or dare step out of our own? First steps do terrify us much.

Why do we not see one another? Why do we neglect the life essentials,
Like truth and love and genuine care? Why do we cling to professional credentials
while boring straight through and staring beyond the masterpieces of God?

Much is at stake in these thoughtless times where apathy reigns
And striving gains us so much but so little. We’re building castles and dreams to the sky
while we fail to see what, to know when, to go where, much less bother asking why.

12:40 am

Every dream is hazy, every hope despondent without You.  All the safety lines and self pleasing rites lie tattered here. 

I'm there, I'm not quite where I should be, I'm dawning but still dying in me.  In myself the hope and sin are rising both together towards some crashing crescendo.

Only to find I'm just so empty.  Empty without You, or smiling eyes to warm my heart.  Empty without food to fill this yawning place in me.

     This is how great stories begin, or sad ones end.  It's the stepping off point to somewhere new, but at which point of the story have we just entered? 

     The only clue and only hope is that I can still say the word "tomorrow" because that is where I find my home.

(a written reflection on 2 Corinthians 4: 16-18)

Dreams Collide

Two dreams collide past the poison arrows of yesterday. . . Rancid yesterday flows like best-forgotten music to my ears.  When the hills dream I'm drowning but not today.  In this place is in-between, is mystery, is hope and all good things.  Hold me here, keep me close and near by some sweet strength beyond me, beyond you, beyond us all, past this place of curiosity to a greater call, a greater brand of word; a call, a vow.

Wilco

Twenty miles from Georgetown my heart stops; Its beating formidable and confused; Puzzled beyond belief I'm never broken; Another body like bread lies on the altar next to the cup; My hands to take in deep droughts of newness; God-ness, this newness overtakes my soul like rolling hills overtake the dawn; This reality deep inside of me deep inside and breaking out. . .

All I need to tell her, all I need to hear she understands; this dying takes its toll on me and from where I stand loneliness broods its melodic memories, deep, silent, overwhelming Siren's call and then she stands before me bathed in beauty, bathed in white, bathed in light and my darkened heart can't stand. . . it's unrelenting, but there's no give in me now that New is here, now that You is here, now that she is near; this treasured gift of bride to be; my love, Your metaphor for so much more beyond me still and we're now ready to greet the new day; This my prayer and call.

Plead To Rise: (Micah 6:8)

Time is short Lord, let me write
The blade of grass cuts through the night
The breath of life fades out of sight
Ecclesiastical awareness

Wake me up, I know it's time
To start moving in the Spirit's rhyme
Catch my breath and breathe it fine
Obedient, not careless

Listen to the Father's word
Apply it in the Father's world
Run with truth from first to third
World countries 'cross earth's surface

Micah spoke it fine and well
Directive from the LORD to tell
Go meet downtrodden hearts in 'hell'
And lift them from injustice

The poet's hand, persuasive sway
Voicing truths to carve the way
To deeper realms in hearts today
To move the self and others
God lift myself and others

Sara Newbury

5 frantic minutes

     Been called Tuesday in the winter of my mind, in the hectic slush of it all left behind and lacking, or just to the right of good obscurity.     In that place less than seen where we all stand kicking, or, maybe, screaming for some words to come and form within us, but our minds have just left town on the last bus. . . on the next train to anywhere but here and my tracks are slowly dying. . . slowly dying to unwind, to bar the door, to break my fall, to call me homeward, upward. . . bound to tumble, born to fall, but hearing voices, hearing calls and heeding visions of some tree transfixed upon my mind.     I'm less than humble, less than nimble, less than all the bad I bring and more than hope fills me. . . overwhelms me really, to the brim, to the brink of mere humanity and I venture forth into utter chaos, into foaming, frothing chaos. . . and this too is good.