APPLAUD NOT THE DISCIPLE

APPLAUD NOT THE DICIPLE

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

Do not applaud me for the ability of tools

for the wrench

was put in my hand by the suffrages

the wheelchair and the strokes

and the forgotten dreams that once possessed.

The line is long

and I have picked by mercies hand the worst

for in these deliberations there is love

whispering on a salted wind

returning to shore like a returning tide of yore.

Blessed on the rocks of God

small things eat smaller things and we still

when we know that we are fragments

pumping heart into the dead wood of time.

Reviving the angelic sounds, and

furthering their existence in the calm wind

I walk like any man on the beach

and the air expels my passionate grief.

Do not applaud me for my poetic doings

for the sunken eyes in my head cannot deny

they have seen so many paralyzed

and immune to the tolerances of magnified pain.

The line is long

and the pathogens in my body are sequestered

leaving my footprints in the sand to follow

hereinto Christ the open door.

At the stake the ego burns into silver ashes

to become molded into significance, and by Grace

I grow into the Light of Gods Spirit.

Healing me as I heal others

these tools are the gracious gifts of God

planting Souls in the garden

whereby their defaults

and diseases

shall become resurrected once more.

Do not applaud the Disciple.