The Poetry of Roger Reeves II (Messianic Literary Corner)

by Roger L Reeves II

She watched the old man, a wise and stout sage,
he had taken the Raven, leaving an empty cage,
grunting and climbing he rose to the ceiling,
whatever was happening left a frightful feeling.
A window he'd made, he flung open up there,
sunlight flooded in along with fresh air,
she noticed the man spoke something to the Raven,
then with both hands launched him from safe haven.
Now that Raven, at first, had been a bothersome one,
yet as time passed good relations had begun,
but with the Raven gone, his empty cage is so bleak,
he's been gone many days now, perhaps even a week.
She worried and fretted for him these days long,
missing that noisy Raven and his annoying song,
she tried to remember, to bring his song to mind,
but here heart was so heavy, no song could she find.
She knew what she was missing, her heart craving,
it was the image of that nasty old black Raven,
but instead of the Raven, returned only the old man,
now she was the one cuddled in his loving hand.
He climbed and he grunted till they were high above,
yet careful and loving with this white dove,
he spoke something to her, but she didn't understand,
but the words carried a peace coming from this man.
When he opened the window in came moist air,
suddenly she felt confined in this man's lair,
he spoke and kissed her on top of her beak,
what was it this old man would have her seek?
The two hands pointed her out toward the sky,
a gentle launch, she flapped and began to fly,
she soared and stretched toward heavenly blue,
for the first time in months she actually flew.
She climbed and climbed in an abandoned dazed,
being carried away by sudden freedom's craze,
her heart beat wildly as she flew futher astray,
till she realized she had already lost her way.
She fluffed her tail and angled wings to glide down,
looked below and to the horizon, but saw no ground,
she tilted left and spiraled, right and glided around,
nothing in sight, no green, no brown, no land found.
An amazing sight she had never before seen,
a world of blue, no sand, no leafy green,
the water had no breakers, there was no shoreline,
the ocean had no branch, or grew any vine.
Gracefully gliding and enjoying the warm sun,
she'd forgotten flying was such thrilling fun,
just when she thought this was living the best,
she realized below she'd find no place to rest.
Is this what became of her old friend the Raven,
her hope was in G-d, only He could have saved him,
but worse now than worrying for the black Raven bird,
she had to face this predicament, no matter how absurd.
She rested as she glided, down to water's edge,
then she'd flap her way upward to exhaustion's ledge,
she'd glide and rest, spiral left and spiral right,
all the while searching the limits of her sight.
Listening to the heaviness of her heartbeat,
finding no rest for the sole of her feet,
looking back to where her fight had begun,
a place of captivity where she would run.
No surprise to her, just a feeling of dismay,
in all the spiraling and gliding she'd lost her way,
even though she was smart and keen of sight,
she wandered the ocean flying all the long night.
Exhaustion had begun to wear her senses down,
yet at early morning light her weary sight found,
a speck so far away she could not tell,
if she could make it there before she fell.
Her heart beat wildly inside her white chest,
for all day and all night she had found no rest,
and now she was here at strengths very end,
what must have happened to her Raven friend.
While mourning for another concern, not her own,
she'd forgot her peril and flew on and on,
until she realized that home was just down below,
at last no more to fly around, or go to and fro.
She landed by the window, exhausted, and stood,
waiting there, something told her she should,
to her relief it opened and there was the old man,
he reached out, comforting and caught her in his hand.
He drew her inside to safety at long last,
cuddling and soothing, never moving to fast,
comfort she felt now in her small little home,
yet she could not rid herself of feeling alone.
With her thoughts of the Raven and the flight outside,
if her eyes could do so, she would surely have cried,
could he have survived these many days above the sea,
she thought, "I would have failed, the strengths not in me."
Before she could count another week went by,
again she was cooing with a most heavy sigh,
she thanked her Maker for the time she had shared,
with that black Raven who had so pitiably fared.
Yet somehow inside her there still lived a hope,
that over endless waters he somehow could cope,
then suddenly she was surprised by the return of the old man,
it seemed she would leave again in search of dry land.
Her heart was not set on survival unless,
she could find hope that the Raven found rest,
but out that window she flew from his hands,
knowing both shared the hope of a brave new land.
Flying in the sunlight, not so crazed as before,
she kept her bearings on that window, safety's door,
not so long did she soar, search, and fly,
green beckoned out and called her to fly nigh.
Wonderful trees full of beautiful green life,
breeze fluttered leaves that soothed all strife,
branches to rest in, lop around and play,
and quickly she spent playing the entire day.
But the chill of the evening warned her not to stay,
she plucked an olive leaf, jumped and flew away,
and before dusk turned to that old black night,
she was waiting at the window at the end of her flight.
The window opened in a quick and good time,
to the old man that leaf was a really good sign,
he returned her to her cage with very much praise,
all seemed hollow with the Raven gone all these days.
Another seven days in her cage she now rested,
she'd forgotten the Raven, but she'd never confess it,
she really did care, but she had begun to feel odd,
she knew his life was in the hands of Almighty G-d.
Once more the man took her up expectantly,
hoping this time, not only her, but all could be free,
she flew out the window thinking of the giant sea,
but right outside she landed in a nice shade tree.
She and the old man knew she'd never go back,
she was now free like the Raven of black,
this shade tree she'd make a fine homey nest,
right next to where G-d brought Noah's Ark to rest.
Old man Noah was free to now come outside,
from a very long trip and quite a scary ride,
she could see by his face the old man did know,
as he smiled through tears at G-d's rainbow.
Many of us are like that Wild White Dove,
sent on our errands, missions from above,
when tired, ready to fall, as is the way of man,
G-d reaches out of heaven and catches us in His hand.

Roger L. Reeves II
Copyright 1994

Amcha � עמך � �Your People�

To Yitzhak Katzenelson

With gentile eyes I see the world, not knowing,
and you see what I miss, generations flowing,
but I cry tears tender at those times I read,
and you have not tears, but inwardly bleed.

What place is this, Sobibor, Treblinka, Dachau,
where all look now not seeing, and wonder how,
any man can do what should never have been,
as if taught of demons full of Satan�s own sin.

Death! Jew! Death! Echoes words spawned of hell.
always rising over and over from hates ugly well,
aimed at the ones who brought us the real truth,
Torah and G-d our only hope or everlasting proof.

How can anyone hate so insidiously and deny love,
murder and kill the chosen people of G-d above,
their hearts were worse than the ghetto of Krackow,

And their souls condemned to the shadow of Dachau.

Dare I touch on the pain of those in Sobibor,
those there for moments and on earth no more,
those who loved the ones who burned before them,
such sacred suffering, to compare to this is sin.

Yet my soul cries out for some sort of reason,
how these animals could bring such a hateful season,
and I am not different in what must be the solution,
never to forget must be the final resolution.

Written by Roger L. Reeves II, CR 2009

I Am that I Am

I am that I am
before me you will stand
as many as the sand
throughout all the land.

I am that I am
so you might understand
I am that I am
for the whole of man.

I am that I am
salvation is at hand
I come as a mortal man
into my chosen land.

I am that I am
mighty, forgiving, and grand,
called the Son of man
suffering in your hand.

I am that I am
a mighty sword in hand
not held by death's band
but living upon the land

I am that I am
salvation right at hand
If you can understand
take my nail printed hand.

I am that I am
giving my life for mortal man
to take it up, once again,
and reveal God's Holy plan.

The Pinnacle

On a pinnacle I stood, high in the air,

no pinnacle I saw could ever compare,

the height so great and no bottom there,

the earth was a memory, of it I was unaware.

On a pinnacle I stood, made of precious stone,

I realized I was not standing there alone,

before me lay a giant crystalline throne,

as my mind comprehended, my soul groaned.

On a pinnacle I stood, at Holy command,

before me were scarred feet covering the land,

the height was beyond any mountain grand,

terror shook my body, I could hardly stand.

On a pinnacle I stood, by His mighty rule,

suddenly I knew all my life I was a fool,

I knew it was true what I heard in school,

Heaven was His throne, the earth His footstool.
On a pinnacle I stood, in silence absurd,

my mouth closed, I couldn't say a word,

all my life reviewed and no verdict was heard,

suddenly I realized my judgment had occurred.
On a pinnacle I stood, my life to tell,

the cost of sin all my life I knew so well,

I knew I deserved to be cast in fiery hell,

In my shame and despair, upon my knees I fell.

On a pinnacle I knelt, as my heart raced,

for compassion I sought to look at His face,

in dizzying height His head reached to space,

there was no desire or chance to speak of my case.
On a pinnacle I knelt, my soul did sigh,

God Almighty towered high above the sky,

I wondered if I ever believed that after I die,

that before such majesty my life would openly lie.

On a pinnacle I knelt, my fate was His choice,

a thousand waters I heard, no, it was a voice,

the words He spoke for me made my eyes moist,

I felt my spirit beginning to rejoice.

On a pinnacle I wept, for the joy He brings,

The Jesus that died for me, now King of Kings,

of me He only spoke good and loving things,

in His presence I knew why the Angels did sing.
On that pinnacle I rejoiced, the Lamb has won,

God the Father and my Jesus, they are one,

yet He paid my dues as God's only Son,

my salvation's sure and life eternal begun.
In my room I knelt in prayer, this vessel of clay,

all around the world, the same it did lay,

taken from me was my desire of here to stay,

clear in my mind was the vision of that day,
Where on a pinnacle I will stand.

The Temple

I am a temple of Almighty God,

Fashioned and measured by His rod,

Ordained before time by my Host,

who now dwells in me, the Holy Ghost.

Chosen a vessel for His burning fire,

saved by grace from sins ugly mire,

a witness to any, whom I can tell,

the path of this world is leading to hell.

Not just a house, I am His temple,

let it be known to the wise and simple,

Many chambers within know my friends,

yet the outer court is for all He sends.

When paths cross of those I don�t know,

it�s there they enter, friend or foe.

These courts reflect all that�s within,

whether I be Holy or full of sin.

Those who enter must beyond this court,

come either at bidding or surmount the fort.

Temple guards are placed at each gate,

barriers to those who would hurt or hate.

It�s my decision of whom I invite,

and whom I bar, it�s my divine right.

Not by force but by His Spirit they enter,

and none save the two come to the center.

The inner courts are for those of like mind,

souls of such love that are hard to find.

Without knowing and loving my Father above,

you cannot taste or know this kind of love.

A chamber of sacrifice exist deep inside,

and from those who scoff, hate, or deride,

I keep it a secret chamber and well hid,

even hidden from what my right hand did.

To this world it may not be in fashion or style,

yet this is that place of discipline or self denial.

In the outer courts I give to the guest,

so to avoid favor among all the rest.

For friends should never enter for gain,

there is no profit that any might remain.

The Holy Chamber is closest to my heart,

where at my faults, loving souls will not depart.

My Lord, my brethren, my children and wife,

they enter here freely and never cause strife.

I trust they would never desecrate this place,

who know His forgiveness as I, by His grace.

The Holy of Holies is indeed the center,

the place I said only the two can enter,

myself alone, and she of the same flesh,

the two are one, and here God will bless.

Only in Him can we be the threefold cord,

Fulfilling His will and wielding His sword,

it�s here that is known our existence reason,

to worship and praise God in every season.

I am a temple, and so are many others,

whether friend or foe, sisters or brothers,

I abide in mine and never desecrate theirs,

I invite whom I will; they enter if they care,

I enter none by force, nor will so hard,

I take my example from Jesus my Lord.

Knock at the door and wait to see,

if they wish me to enter, and sup with me.

How long till sunset, my love?

This westward room is such a grand affair,

if only the heat of August would forbear,

but warm and cozy on many a winter�s day,

when we came in youth�s first love play.