This Is David Staples

These poems are from a poetry workshop we had at our church. They are based on the Seven Shadows of the Cross: Betrayal, Desertion, Unshared Vigil, Accusation, Crucifixion, Death, Burial.  We weren't actually assigned this one. The poetry workshop ended with Resurrection, but that isn't one of The Shadows. I went ahead and wrote this one so I had a complete set. Yeah, I know I'm weird.  DEATH It is the finality of it all Every moment of my life they were there And then they weren’t An inauspicious Tuesday morning, shattered by the ringing of the phone An agonizing bedside vigil, ended with a merciful final breath A busy Saturday afternoon, interrupted by a shocking video chat.  Different scenarios, the same result Life being thrown off its axis Trying in vain to comprehend a life without them Attempting to fill the hole ripped in my heart Even though death is natural, it feels so abnormal Suddenly a person doesn’t exist Reduced to a ghost in my memories A note in my history

These poems are from a poetry workshop we had at our church. They are based on the Seven Shadows of the Cross: Betrayal, Desertion, Unshared Vigil, Accusation, Crucifixion, Death, Burial.  For this one, we were supposed to follow the pattern of the song "Were You There?" as we built this poem. Our first line had to be "Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" Our last line had to be "sometimes it causes me to ..." The song ends with "tremble," but we were encouraged to use a different word to end it. CRUCIFIXION Were you there when they nailed him to the cross? No, I wasn’t there. I’m always quick to point out my innocence To provide quality reasons why I deviated from perfection To shout that I would never have participated in such a barbaric event, such a travesty, such a miscarriage of justice I would have stood up for Him I would have defended Him I would have died for Him Yet I rarely even live for Him I rarely even argue for Him I rarel

These poems are from a poetry workshop we had at our church. They are based on the Seven Shadows of the Cross: Betrayal, Desertion, Unshared Vigil, Accusation, Crucifixion, Death, Burial.  For this one, we had to accuse someone of something that hurt us. But the twist was that we had to then point the finger back at us at the end. So something that someone did that we also are guilty of.  ACCUSATION I swore I would not become you I would never cause my children to live in fear I would never lead my wife to question my love I would never betray and abandon those who needed me most Your rage scorched the earth Burning away any security we had Your lust shattered our hearts Breaking the illusion of parents who loved each other Your greed crippled our family Disabling our ability to do anything but barely survive Your selfishness suffocated your children Choking out any dreams that required sacrifice on your part Your prejudice polluted your offspring Poisoning us to the beauty of the colo

These poems are from a poetry workshop we had at our church. They are based on the Seven Shadows of the Cross: Betrayal, Desertion, Unshared Vigil, Accusation, Crucifixion, Death, Burial.  For this one, we had to follow Jesus' plea in the Garden "If it is not possible for this cup to pass from me, then so be it." We were supposed to come up with a situation where we ask God for something, but it doesn't go away. If it isn't possible to heal my body, then so be it.  UNSHARED VIGIL My mind it is wired But I am so tired  My heart is on fire My body’s a liar My greatest need Is I want to be freed From this carcass so weak Tis frail as a reed  With each effort I make My joints they all ache My bones they all break My joy they all take For most of my life Filled with anger and strife My years have been rife With cuts from a knife  Why must this be so To be laid so low Wherever I go Never to know The thrill of a chase  Or the rush of a race To go place to place At a rapi

These poems are from a poetry workshop we had at our church. They are based on the Seven Shadows of the Cross: Betrayal, Desertion, Unshared Vigil, Accusation, Crucifixion, Death, Burial.  DESERTION Pressure It closes in on me Everything around me squeezes me The expectations, the demands, the failures They pile onto me in a relentless cascade  I can’t keep standing beneath the torrent I bend and collapse Still the weight increases Tension My jaws clamp shut Beyond what is tenable, my teeth grind together My muscles contract more and more I am coiled tightly and the crank continues to turn I live on a hair trigger My skin is inside out, all nerves and twitches Still the clamp tightens Heat I am on fire My face is scarlet My chest itches with inflammation  My heart pounds, resonating in my ears Flames cover my body, scorching away any remaining resolve All the remains is the volatile core Still the temperature rises. Inevitable I am a ticking time bomb I am unstable and dangerous It won

I recently participated in a poetry workshop at our church. I'm not a poet. I have no desire to be a poet. I am not even a big fan of poetry, unless we are talking about songs. I think I got turned off to poetry when we covered it in English class, and my teachers would tell me my interpretation of a poem was wrong. How can it be wrong? I read it; that's what I got out of it. Different people can get different things out of poetry. So why did I go to the poetry workshop? Well, our pastor told me that I was going. She's been encouraging me in my writing, and she felt this would be a good place for me to develop skills or get practice. I didn't have a good argument for that.   One thing that came up during the sessions is that I gravitate more towards prose poetry. Our sessions were led by Ray McManus - a very gifted poet and a professor at UofSC.  He has a new book that just came out, which I am excited to read. The Last Saturday in America . He pointed out multiple tim