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Tag: poetry

hey dreamer

Tracey Dyck 50 Comments

hey dreamer
when did your dream become a to-do list?
a series of boxes to be checked?
when did that big, airy wonder
shrivel down to a sheet of paper?

hey dreamer
when did your dream become a memory?
an old photograph?
a distant crackle on the radio
reminding you of long-gone days?

hey dreamer
when did it become a mirage?
a trick of the light?
a shimmer of bitter possibility
in a strangely cold desert of reality?

hey dreamer
when did it become a burden?
a ten-ton weight laid across your shoulders?
a crushing suffocation
measuring your spine and timing your steps?

hey dreamer
when did it become a secret?
a well-worn hideaway?
a crumpled little trinket
you keep in a box hidden under the bed?

hey dreamer

when did the fire in your heart become the fire at your heels?
when did now lose its luster to back then?
when did someday become maybe become never?
when did summer-light wings turn to lead?
when did your banner fray and fade?

hey dreamer

can you tell me when?
tell me why?

i wish you’d remember
recall
recollect
gather up
stir up
cradle close to your chest:

the joy

the joy of the dream that once put a sword in your hand and the stars in your eyes
the wonder of the thing that pulled you around every expectant corner
the beat in your chest so loud and so hard some days that the joy of it all just hurt

hey dreamer . . .
it’s still there, you know
you can find it again

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When Love Runs Red

Tracey Dyck 26 Comments
[source]

When Love Runs Red
by Tracey Dyck
When Love comes down to authored world—
Conceived within a virgin girl,
Laid to rest in bed of straw—
Come to satisfy the law . . .

When Love walks with the least of these
And answers blind men’s searching pleas;
Touches lepers, calls forth the dead,
And finds no place to rest His head . . .

When Love endures the scoffers’ words,
The hatred by His enemies stirred;
And bows to take a crown of thorns,
The cross upon His shoulders borne . . .

When Love climbs up that hill of death
And cries forgiveness with final breath—
When wrath of God on Him does fly
And night engulfs the weeping sky . . .

When Love runs red down rugged beams
And wrongs are washed by scarlet streams,
When blackest sinner becomes white,
Declared by God to be made right . . .

How can our hearts not drown in this?
This flood of grace, redemption’s kiss?
How can we not succumb to Him?
In light of this, all else grows dim.

When Love emerges from the grave,
Makes children of the serpent’s slaves,
The victory won, the chasm spanned,
In glorious light we Beloved stand.
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Father

Tracey Dyck 11 Comments

Tomorrow, as you all know, is Father’s Day! Dads, and all father figures in general, hold the power to make such an impression on their children. I am ever grateful for my amazing father, who has made an imprint of love and strength on my heart. I wrote this poem last year for his birthday, and thought it fitting for this holiday.

Father                   (July 4, 2014)



See
the fire burning bright
The
blaze that warms cold hands
It’s
a wall of flames at night
A
wolf-repelling brand


See
the bedrock ‘neath the soil
Bearing
a castle great
It’s
a compacted vein of strength
That
none can penetrate


See
the sails of the mighty ship
That
catch the southern breeze
And
direct the noble sailors
Across
calm or stormy seas


See
the rushing woodland stream
Bringing
life to what grows near
Its
waters reflect the lights above
The
stars feel closer here


All
these things are in one man
The
fire, rock, and sails
Rivers
run through my father’s heart
So
let me unwind the tale


He’s
a warm, protecting fire
That
keeps the beasts at bay
He’s
a strong support beneath us
Steadfast,
come what may


He’s
the sail of a family vessel
Guiding
us over the waves
He’s a
life-giving waterway
Reflecting
the One who saves


But
how can one possess all these?
How
can a mortal man
Be
fire, rock, and sail, and flood?
I’ll
tell you how he can


The
fire was sparked by holy flint
God
forged the vein of stone
The
Word directs his willing sails
The
waters flow from Christ alone


If
not for that, he’d be as lost
As
any other soul
But
thank the Lord for saving grace
That
bestowed on him this role:


Father – my
Daddy, now and always
He
belongs to me
He’s
head of a precious household

To
our hearts, he holds the key



Lord,
thank You for my father

Who
protects, upholds, and leads

He’s
Your warrior, through and through
With You, he does great deeds

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A Tribute

Tracey Dyck 8 Comments

I hope you all don’t mind that my blogging schedule, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is a flexible thing. I still aim to post every Saturday, but I’m occasionally adding a “bonus” post during the week. Such as today, because . . .

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It’s Mother’s Day! I am blessed with an amazing mom. The best in the whole wide world, in fact. Last year I wrote her a poem for her birthday, and it suits this special day as well. I thought I’d share it here in honor of all the moms out there. You’re heroes.

[br]

A Tribute

(April 23, 2014)

[br]

You should know I have a hero
Who is no caped crusader
She’s someone else entirely
But of this I must persuade her

[br]

Instead of jumping towers
And flying through the air
She embarks on covert missions
Of which most would never dare

[br]

You never know she’s coming
Until she winds up right beside you
Her work is classified, top secret
But these things I know to be quite true:

[br]

She’s a very gifted healer
In more than just one way
Her words and hands work magic
And send all illnesses away

[br]

She’s a strong and skillful warrior
With an arsenal at the ready
Her favorite weapon’s prayer
And her Director keeps her steady

[br]

She’s a family woman too
Don’t think that’s just a cover
She cares for each one in her clan
And every day they say they love her

[br]

What exactly does she do?
You might be wondering by now
Well, the answer’s pretty lengthy
But I’ll explain the what and how

[br]

She gives hope to the despairing
And reminds them of the light
She empowers the discouraged
And says that God has won the fight

[br]

She brings joy to every day
With a joke, a smile, a laugh
Can’t stay down when she’s around
Your load she cuts in half

[br]

She’s an ambassador of truth
A representative of Christ
Her life’s a glowing illustration
She knows lip service won’t suffice

[br]

She inspires, builds, and grows
She spreads the sparrow’s wings
Her life’s a tapestry of grace
And you can tell that her heart sings

[br]

In the middle of the storm
She’s a cornerstone of calm
She is the wondrous blessing
Whom I’m honored to call “Mom”
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