Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The Singer

It's a poetic narrative by Calvin Miller. I found it one night last week in Jen's bookshelf and read the entire thing that night.

"What would you like to be when you grow up, little girl?"

"Alive."
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"But the word... the word they wrote upon your face is gone."

The Singer reached up to his forhead where the searing iron had left the accusation of the council. The word was gone indeed.

"It is," he said, "because Earthmaker cannot bear a lie. He could not let me wear the word for He is Truth. He knows no contradiction in himself. So learn this, my little friend, no man may burn a label into flesh and make it stay when heaven disagrees."
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If she has loved him, a man will carry anything for his mother - a waterpot or a world.
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Never had he been the way he walked, yet his feet knew every step. He could not cease to marvel how they moved his body forward through the mist of circumstances which he vaguely knew by name.
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Blessed are those who die for reasons that are real, for they themselves are real.

2 comments:

R. Kristina said...

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness, I am so, so, so excited to add you to my link list. Llllaaaa!!! I have a one hundred bizillion things to do today - because my life is so, so important :0) ha! - but, as soon as I have a tea cup moment I am reading your blog. And I can already tell it's going to be a sweet, heart felt journey because you clearly are a delightful soul. Please give Jill a hug for me and tell her to get a blog. Cant wait till the next time we get to hang out either.

Peace Out Sista'
-Roxx

R. Kristina said...

PS: While your title is sincere and heart felt and I absolutely love it, I have to be a dork and let you know "European" is one of my favorite Jeff Foxworthy vocab words (I'm a small town dork girl)...

It also works for "Ur O pee-in" on my shoes...

Giggle,
R