Wild Oats

I once loved a wild man
sowing his wild oats
in the field where they grew
there was endless boundless freedom
and thorns and thistles too
he never promised me a rose garden
I don’t like roses anyhow
those thorns prick
and I bleed


I got transplanted
and grafted in
to this olive grove
I am fed on ancient mysteries
in a garden with flowers and fragrant fruit
the doves come and nest
in my branches
and the oil drips down
anointing the sheep

the grass is greener here
the river is peaceful and flowing
the birds sing
I am forever grateful
He keeps the wolves from the door
And allows me
to sup and eat with Him

He also says to me
“I will never leave you nor forsake you’
Lo I am with you alway…

alway?
Always…
Everyday?
yes..

He also says…to the end of the age…

While I am safe in his garden, 
idly counting sheep and resting
gazing up at the clouds
He is hard at work
Burning the chaff, separating the wheat
and letting the goats with their kids go.

Conversations at the Well

How do you talk to him? 
I stand at Jacobs well, drawing water over and over, but it can never satisfy
A man walks over
Yet he is not merely a man
He is ageless
He knows all I ever did
Who am I?
Call your husband, says this man
I have no husband
He tells me thats true
For I have had five husbands
And the one I am living with now
Is not my husband

I draw water
My back aches
Where do you worship?
Jerusalem?
Mount Geriziah?
Which?
He replies
Those who worship the Lord
Must worship him in spirit 
And in Truth

....
I see him as a man
yet he is not merely a man
He is a prophet
I want to run
Go tell everyone
Go tell it on the mountain
all the people
Everywhere

Before he lets me
Go

Some startling new information 
Comes to light
I have the secret 
Of eternal life
The well that never runs dry
The husband that is eternal
The one who always satisfies
With living water

It is too good to be true
It is hard to believe
I flee the scene
My wineskins burst
I have seen the light
He is the Messiah

.........

Shabbat

Not black
Not green or white or blue
But gold
Burning candles
Prayers round the dinner table
Holding hands
a song

Was this what man was made for?
or was it made for man?
Cos the woman has to do everything
make the challah
Light the candles
Say the prayer

Set the table
have the children
Oy vey!
It is too much work
And the cholent is burning
and the gelfite fish is tough
And the matzah is dry...

There is an empty cup
Elijah 
Who never comes
To my failed dinner parties
Yet I still wait for him 
To tell me what to do

I married the wrong man
had the wrong children, kids
Yet Im happy
Or at least 
Pretend to be
For their sake

.........

I have a friend named Mary
But take lessons from her sister Martha
She says I do it all wrong
I should do it this way
I try my best
I want perfection
But it never turns out
Quite how it looks
In Better Homes
better than mine

Martha bosses Mary
get your A into G
She says
Lazy Mary
Sitting around
Listening to Jesus
Tell tall tales
Of heavenly nonsense
and angels wings

Im sure he has the hots for her
I burn the dinner
Again