A Boy

A boy
Three years young and running free
Giggling as he plays with me
Telling tales of things he’s done
When barely has his life begun
He sprays me with his dragon fire
Or dresses up in strange attire
To act like something never seen
Imagining things that’ve never been
His brain makes something ours did not
The world’s first taste of a boy’s grand plot
A boy
A year has past since he was two
Desires voiced on what to do
Ideas abounding, new words sounding
Telling us he’s someone too
Learning what a truck is for
Peek-a-boo behind the door
Cackling at all life’s surprises
What’s he thinking? one surmises
Marveling at this special soul
Melting is this heart he stole
A boy
Toothless tot trying to talk
Wobbling, bobbling, trying to walk
Staring at the new, forever
His mind alight grows quickly clever
Though quite small, his purpose huge
Hard to stop this centrifuge
Of energy so beaming bright
Attacks the tasks with all his might
A boy
Tiny bundle meets the earth
No words describe his precious worth
Helpless yes but hopeless no
Love abounds and loves him so
Gives him all just what he needs
Waters him like thirsty seeds
So presently he grows and grows
More lovely as the season goes
A boy
Infinitesimal in the womb
Mommy hears his heart go boom
Swirling, twirling in the deep
Peacefully dwelling in deepest sleep
Forming faster now than ever
The beautiful miracle comes together
A boy
The apple of his Maker’s eye
A brilliant picture painted
None can fathom this glorious creature
His life momentarily latent
We wonder what it looks like
So spectacular a view
Of all us boys and girls in mind
Long before the world knew
Perhaps we would be startled
To glance at our envisioned visage
Resembling perfectly our Maker
Of whom we ever bear the image.

Jihad on #Hebdo

Twin terrors pack heat to melt the defenseless
Who pack pen and pad unprepared for the senseless
Violence stealing their lives for jihad
Crimson ink spills in the name of a god
Who doubtful they know but still play the part
As if bloodlust could thrust from a purified heart.

Fault you fiends not, for almighty passion
But to fight holy war’s to receive but a ration
Of truth from the righteous, omniscient Judge
In the true courts of mercy even wicked are loved.

For your fervor is fueled for a judge most unkind
Who can’t pitch true love thus bewitching your mind
You reach out to pummel the poor infidel
Who no less deserves Paradise than you deserve Hell.

True love reaches out bearing arms open wide
As blood from His passion pours out from His side
Crying out to the nations the holy war’s through
You weren’t tuned to that station so your passion was skewed
What they printed offended, left your judgment suspended
Yet you missed the fine print of the Prophet upended
For His radical response to your foes at Hebdo
“Forgive them Father, they know not what they do.”