Category: poetry

The little Christ



I’m dressing up like Christ today


I’m walking out the door


I don’t quite fit inside his skin


I’m lacking so much more



Outside you see this humble soul


That cares and gives and loves


Inside, alas, so much is bad


It’s stained, it takes and shoves



Each day I put this costume on


To do the things He’d do


I walk the walk, I talk the talk


Yet, things still show right through



But every day I put him on,


I feel a bit more sure,


As passes time, the thing I find


His being covers more



I wonder if I shrink to fit


The skin he let me wear


Or if it grows to cover those


Places that I’m so bare



But what I’ve found, as time winds down


My image shines so bright


For by his power, in my last hour


He seals me with his might.



Less of me, and more of Christ!



© 2007 Jediah Logiodice

Meditation on the Lord’s Supper

Intinction

Remembrance

To sup

Usually, I stand, I hear those words

                "His body was broken for you"

They cut to the heart

They make you invite his goodness, richness and mercy

The soft, sopped bread,

The bitter sweet taste of bled grapes

Into your unsavory and rotting meat,                                     gracious,              bewildered                                        

                "Why did He love me so?"

But wait!

Just try sometime                                                            standing there

                In the echoed silent halls of two thousand years of Saints

                                As they crowd around to eat

To speak those words to others

                Almost like a double edged sword

                                They reach and stab and pierce your innermost parts

And each time it becomes more unbearable

                The finality                          the weightiness of the gift

                                "His body was broken for you" 

                                                "His body was broken for you"

                                                                "His body was broken for you"

…

                …

                                 "His body was broken for you"

The fullness of each hammer swung word

                Echoes. Haunts.

                Tightens the nail around His flesh

                                Grips the flesh around your eyes                             

The catholicity of his sacrifice comes crashing down around you

                Almost bringing you to your knees in full                                                               perpetual prostration

It wasn’t for you only that your "personal savior" died

                It was for him,

                                                And her,

                                                                                And him,

                                                                                                                And her

And for as many as there are to come to the feast

                                                                His body was broken for them too.

 

© 2008 Jediah Logiodice

Running from an Addiction

This poem identified within me, a rebirth. I was 18 and I was trying hard to break free from an overuse of marijuana. I was, the night that I penned this, standing in the parking lot of an Irving all night diner. I was alone, my head was foggy, but was slowly clearing up. I was remembering nights when I had been so drugged up that I could barely even breathe, I couldn’t think, I was ecstatic with fake joy, colors and sounds all swirling together, hallucinations, as I sat and watched my life literally flash before my eyes . The silence was deafening.

I was running from life, I was running from pain, I was trying to cover all the hurt that I had, but no matter where I went, even if I went into a house, and closed and locked the doors behind me, the pain always seemed to find me. And in the end, when the morning sun came up, as my head began to clear, as I climbed outside of my wooden box of death, I would drive back to my house, to once again live another day as if I was just a typical, normal person, on the outside….

So, here is the poem…

Run Run Run away!

Where ya gonna go?

Find a rock as big as sea

And cover life from woe.

Silence roams upon the earth

Knocking door to door,

Bringing deadly winter chills

Oozing through the floor.

Fleeing life and French-kissed pain

Driving out into the night

Placing mellow in your heart

Holding on for infernal flight.

Screaming, soaring,

Ecstatic moon

Covering your sorrow

Climbing free from mildew waste –

Cringing in sun’s ‘morrow.

Sinking freely in the water

Rising from the stone –

Open eyes, and blinding light,

Marching on towards home.

©1996 Jediah Logiodice

Reflection on the Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.





I love The Road not Taken…. however, here is the question, did he believe he took the right road?

Herein lies the enigma of human existence, the game of “What If”. I had a young lady that I was in love with, to the point that I felt like I would die living without here (even now, almost 15 years later, it still pains my heart to think of). She quoted this, the last day I remember spending time with her. She was a year older than I, and going off to college, she felt that it was time for her to step out into the world, and try the road less taken. She had one road, that seemed safe, it was the road that seemed more traveled, but she wanted to take the road less taken.

And here, Robert says “I kept the first for another day, yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back” – he made a choice, and regretfully knew that he would never be able to come back to that point in his life where he could make this same choice again.

And he continues on, “I shall be telling this with a sigh” – and I believe the heart of this sigh is, he still wonders, what would have happened if he took the road more taken. He never really tells if he regretted it or not, he just says that his decision made all the difference – which is the beauty of this poem – he leaves it to each and every reader, to look into their own heart, and their own experience, and answer this question for themselves… “Do I regret the road I have taken”.

Notice the title of the poem – it’s not The Road I Took, it’s the Road Not Taken – I think that in our lives, we will all be plagued by the road we didn’t take as we wonder “What If” – but that’s a question we’ll never have answered.

I wish I had written this poem, it’s so full of heart, and pain and hope!

Would even one linger?

If I withered like a flower, would you miss me when I’m gone,

If you woke to find me missing, how would that impact your dawn?

If I dried up like a stream bed, would I ever leave a mark,

If I melted like a snow drop, if my candle lost its spark?

As a shooting star will disappear, I’ve often wondered how,

The way they would have treated me, if they knew then, what’s now

The moment that I fly away, I wonder if they’d care.

Or when they lower me below, would one memory linger there?

© 2007 Jediah Logiodice

Lost…


Sometimes, when young, something goes wrong in your life and you go down a path of self destruction…



Farther climbing out of sight


I do not even


Remember light


And where it comes from


Why it’s here,


Tasting sick deaths


Lovely beer


Intoxicates and follows through


And now my friend


If you only knew


What happens when


The lights go out


With scorching screams


And lemon shouts


To run from life


To run from home


To leave all known


I’ve ever known


So find my end,


Upon the rocks


Then climb inside


My wooden box!



©1996 Jediah Logiodice

She said she missed me…


She said she missed me…


“I would tell you I missed you”, I replied, “But how can I miss you, I haven’t lost you – I know just where you are”.


But then, I sat, and contemplated my life, where I’ve been, and where I am.


I turned to her and said, “I do, however, miss myself terribly”.