I wrote this for everyone who feels lonely in leadership, or like they have to start from scratch with next to nothing. Or... even the ravages of a personal loss.
well well
well well
you and i are the last ones standing
it's quiet here isn't it
among the twisted girders
and the charred infrastructure
of what was
a bustling destination town
tumbleweeds rolling across broken up boulevards
abandoned four by fours on pothole parking lots
an occasional lost crow passing overhead
so here we are
you and me
what will we do
we will find a hammer or two
scoop up some nails
round up some old boards with a little life left in them
and we'll build a scaffold
we'll gather up some scrap tools
and get to work
and we will make this ghost town into a chapel
a house of prayer
and when we're all prayed up
we'll forge this chapel into a shelter
for the lost ones and the refugees
as they pass through in the storm
and find a home
rough around the edges
but solid and warm
one by one
little by little
this tumble down old ramshackle of a town
will rise again
and become
the city of God
Greg you are inspirational ... you paint such amazing word pictures , that touch my soul , as does your songs .. love your posts .. bless you abundantly ... Bev Adair
ReplyDeleteThanks Bev. I really enjoy this "canvas", this medium. It's like songwriting, but with a different kind of freedom. I'm grateful for you encouragement!
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Love the visual Greg, but Im just about ready to abandon the ghost town and go to another town that may be more receptive. (figuratively speaking).
ReplyDeleteYep, I think there are definitely times when the best thing--the God-led thing, the right thing--is to 'get out of Dodge, regroup, and go where there's more receptivity. I think the poem is a hopeful dream of what could happen--a celebration of the possibilities when, under certain circumstances, people choose to stay in the thick of the wreckage and rebuild.
ReplyDeleteLOVE the conversation!
I actually like this poem...thanks for sharing it. It made me think of cities like Detroit, school districts that are struggling to survive, perhaps even churches that are dying (like the one in my town that closed). It also reminded me of Ezekiel 37 and the breath of God bringing life to dry bones.
ReplyDeleteMJB, I thought of places like that too when i was writing it. I thought of St. Francis of Assisi in the dilapidated cathedral in rural Italy, when he heard God's whisper, "rebuild my church," and he caught a vision that redirected his path forever. Strangely, I hadn't thought of the dry bones coming to life... but I am now. :)
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