The Running Man

11/25/17

Category: Uncategorized

I wrote this poem about the recent death of a close friend of mine. The world lost a wonderful warrior of God. But what is our loss is heaven’s gain. I will forever remember his brave, compassionate soul.

The only contrast here in the City of Gold is the ample gems under my feet. Fluorite and tanzanite, topaz and amethyst, emerald and sapphire rise up, waiting to be polished by my alabaster skin. The sensation of tingling pressure in my limbs is new to me.

By His blood I have conquered everything and yet there’s so much to look forward to; yes, I’m here awaiting you all to teach you the art of gratitude.

The terracotta mountains tremble when they see me running towards them. I’m something of a personified sphinx: like a wild, free lion I pounce with pleasure on that foreign feeling of pain, and like a graceful gazelle I spring from rock to rock ascending further and further into the mystical.

What was merely a dream in your world is a ubiquitous reality with God. With my eyes aglow I see Him so clear now: the face of a proud Father and kind Mother. He waves me up smiling at my every foot’s fall.

My fingertips feel the electricity between me and the celestial Half Dome. The charge flows throughout my new Trojan body, down my thighs of bronze, through my sandal-laced winged-feet, and finally down to your clay vessels through a beam of light connecting heaven and earth.

Don’t take a single sunset for granted, either in the city or countryside. Know that I’m enjoying the same cyclical dance of star and rock from my predestined position, on top of a mountain built on divine promises and eternal rewards.

Here time stands still but joy abounds. What was once my crutch is now my spear. Achilles is my name, without an Achilles’ heal. I am no longer the half-man, half-chair my wife and son remember me as. ‘Round here, I’m known as “The Running Man,” and when I run, I feel God’s pleasure!

Until I write again, through either sunset or sea breeze, sunrise or West wind, I await your familiar faces in a sky of seductive splendor.

112017

12 Comments
Newest
Oldest Most Voted
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Lisa B
Lisa B
8 years ago

Nicely done Chesteryou have a gift! This is a beautiful poem!

Neelia Heydt
Neelia Heydt
8 years ago

Love the poem… I’m sorry to hear about your friend.

Dave Lippman
8 years ago

Wow, Chester, that poem gives me chills. It is such powerful depiction of heaven, the freedom, the healing, and such a revelation of the beauty of your friends heart and life that it makes my heart ache. Thank you for sharing your poem and heart for your friend and the hope that you see in this season of pain. It was really encouraging for me to read. Please continue to write poetry. And come visit MH when you have a chance 🙂

Aubrey
Aubrey
8 years ago

What a beautiful poem! Loved all the detail!

Seth Ebel
Seth Ebel
8 years ago

So awesome Chester. How glorious it will be to see him again…alive, strong, and able.

Kecia
Kecia
8 years ago

Beautiful!

12/23/24

Category: Uncategorized

…the linguistic problem hammers the last nail in the coffin of the traditional setting of “the inn” being some sort of hotel. In Greek, katáluma is translated “lodging place,” “upper room,” or “guest room.”[6] Only a few translations call it something other than “the inn,” which lends itself to misinterpretation by Westerns who think of “the inn” as a kind of hostel or motel.[7] But Matthew’s gospel makes it clear that the Maji entered a “house”: “And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.”[8] So, the traditional telling of “no room for them in the inn” should be translated “no room for them in the guest room upstairs.”  

Read More »

1/22/19

Category: Uncategorized

one should read the BIBLE as a mystery novel: a story of prideful irony (sin) and ironic pride (salvation) one should peruse its pages for the character development of villain and hero one should be prepared to personally invest into the proverbial love story that takes place between author and reader

Read More »

1/19/19

Category: Uncategorized

A young man about twenty-five years old paddles out to his local surf break in San Clemente, California. The silhouette of something substantial yet sprightly in the murky water startles the surfer with no name. The still sea around him becomes agitated. Moments later, a creature scuffs his leg. He recoils his limbs and lies…

Read More »

Newsletter Signup