The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Oh My Jesus

Oh my Jesus,
Call me "Beloved"
Call me your son or your servant, but
Call me, draw me close to You.

I need You!
Hear, my sweet Jesus,
the hollow groan that
echoes within the
deep cavern of my wounds.

I cry out for You,
and for all whom You send me.

My emptiness, 
my aching,
my yearning to be
filled is ignited by the 
darts of love with which 
your angels slay me.

Whatever monster lies within,
dark phoenix of anger and hatred,
I let it go. I trust in Your Love.
which never dies, nor is reborn, 
but ever sustains me.

Some say Your love hounds, or
that Your arms remain open and waiting,
but You are never apart from me
though I turn away.

My stony caverns of
desperate need
are more like lungs 
that need to gasp for air
but are pressed down by fear.

Or like a deep, bleeding wound
that throbs and aches and bleeds
out its last bit of life,
needing to be healed,
its gaping hole is a letting go
of any attempt to heal itself
or to try to conserve its life
it just waits, watching 
the blood pour out so that
only trust in a miracle is left,
hope in the impossible...then,
love rings out as if
the air turned to rain, and
all around, overflowing, with
abundance to the tiniest detail,
is every remedy, answer, and
true desire fulfilled
in Your Love,
in You.

We are Your wounded people,
Your world left wanting.
We are Your people-made-whole.
You overflow us,
pour out of us and into us,
so that our love, our praise,
our thanksgiving, 
(born from your Love)
may take on every color and hue,
every tone and timbre.

Our experience is written by Your Hand
in the scars of our bodies and 
the health of our limbs;
in our knowing and discovering;
in our yearning and joy.
You are carved within us, and 
we trust You,
we love You,
we are Yours.
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©2003 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.