O God
We have seen You in the face of Jesus
Having no place to lay down His head
Yet with the perfect Law for the weary
and burdened
But You are ever the Most High
Great and fearful
And the saints were dumbstruck
Seeing the King of kings who rules from
all eternity
Among them as a peasant
Homeless, despised
the offscouring of the people
They all smiled when He spoke of love
But You are ever the Self-existent One
Lord of glory
The cold of the manger
Blasphemy, that is blasphemy!
Let Him come down from the Cross if
He is Christ, the Son of God
But You are ever exalted and upraised
the Root of all being
No, it is I. Do not be afraid
I have believed You, Lord. I will not
be afraid
And when the last sun is extinguished I
will not be afraid forever
Peace I leave with you
My peace I give unto you
But You are ever gracious and merciful
full of pity
— Barry I. Hyman
Kindle
friend
lone and pure
kindle praise
for the
Name Most High
Lord of the worlds
sustain us
None can harm me
None dismay me
My Lord is near
God of men and angels
is He
Lord of the whirling dome
If I tell them
this is my city
will they believe me
won’t they know
city of anger
and nobody hears
dry city
funnel beckoning
echo echoing
only a sigh
and the rain-woven wind
To Him belongs the praise
most
buoyant and fair
God
faithful King
God
the crucified
murdered by the Jews
and the rulers of the lands
there is no god but He
Splash of dawn
splash of morning
on the inwrought stars
flashes on the tracks
turn
and turn again
and turn
Crisp and frosted
are the winds
where my Lord is guiding
I will rise
and I will flee
and not remember
— Barry I. Hyman
their laugh was
slivers of light
paper-thin
tinkling on the windows
falling
over
silvered fields
The blending of the patterns of life in the city of sorrows
is like the reeling and the swirling of the haze of summer
on the stoops and the gutters of the slums
Wind
come
Wind
burning through the stars
and churning through the dust
in the desert of the wind
Come and tell us
Life is the great seclusion
Say ye
Life
is the chattering void
never known
call them
call them
Son of ages
never known
The years come and the years go
The years come and go
The years go and the years come
Going and coming the years
sigh, drifting and swirling
The vanities
and the delusions
and the shimmering obscenities
mask
but cannot hide
and cannot change
and cannot annul
the Day
Free
Free among the dead, who have no more
drifting and swirling
Ashes will cover
the face of pride
and dust will cover
filmy and dim
the stain of the worlds
And the Spirit and the bride say, Come
And let him that heareth say, Come
Slowly the ages
misty and thin
level by level
fold back and fall
crumbling
fading
— Barry I. Hyman