Sylvia Sharpentier

Glory to Christ for my poetic existence
Glory to Christ for my poetic resistance
Glory to Christ for my poetic persistence

When high celestials call me a vortex of stars
Pink heavens rain on me like vernal brume in a morn
Bathed in petite waterfalls of grace,
Fluttering raincoat in sweet petrichor, I dance
   to the music from above
   to the Romance and Romanesque of ethers existential
   A symbol of zeitgeist potential

Heavenward are divine stitches and white scribbles 
Whose wonder my forefathers ponder'd
I breathe under the same constellation
Where civilizations birthed and perished 
Like passing seasons

This life! This life! What a glamorous life!
I see Your fingerprints everywhere
And I miss you without ever seeing You

Like a farm boy fluting harmonica on the waves of yellow reeds 
I planted vines along a galactic string of beads
Sailing across the big night sky
Under the churning stars 
Where I'd calmly call myself 
A possibility beyond scars

I ask supernatural favour over their journey
May blessings arrive without stress
May answers come without striving
May doors open gently and in Your timing

Wrap the Reader with Your protection
Let no weapon formed agaist them prosper
Let peace return, Let clarity return, Let joy return

These pines, my ribs and arches
"You are my secret weapon," the Poet said
Like the sound of pencil scribbling on a sketchbook
Like the ritualistic depth of coffee in the morn
A day is a blessing
Life is a grace
Gratitude to the Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God!

Glory to the Christ for my poetic existence
Glory to the Christ for my poetic resistance
Glory to the Christ for my poetic persistence