February 16, 2001

Words or Weapons?
By Susan C. Cunningham

Author's Note: I have been reading a wonderful book written by Christian fiction writer Frank Peretti entitled "The Wounded Spirit". This book is non-fiction and it is an amazing book that really ministers to the heart about what words can do in our life and to our lives!! Mr. Peretti was inspired to write this book by circumstances in his own life and the tragedy of the Columbine killings. The book of James in the Bible, chapter 3, speaks of the damage that the tongue can do.

The Lord has been speaking to me about the damage one little word can do and has brought a poem to me, and one I would like to share with you.. something for all of us to think about and I am sure something that all of us have experienced at some point in our lives. I send this with love and with the hope that all of us will be more thoughtful as we speak. Do you know someone that you have wounded with words... I know I have.. and I ask their forgiveness!! God bless!!
Susan

Words or Weapons?

God whispered..."Come"
The air was thick with oppression,
waiting to devour and press deeper
into the soul without a trace of remorse.

Shackled by words that stung the frail and helpless,
shaking the world with violence and hatred...
Pain.
God whispered..."Come"

Timeless warnings from someplace,
urges unexplained from space..misunderstood.
Confusion, doubt..wait it out.
God whispered..."Come"

The man, the woman, the child
While seeing blind, hearing loud and boisterous
chimes and chides to scratch and mark..scar
Forever.
God whispered...."Come"

Lying in a pool of blood..hurting, dying
from the insensitive weapons of the tongue,
That through the ages maintained
by the case Accuser.
God whispered...."Come"

From the pool of blood and sin
The Victor rose and breathed again,
bringing home the children..
No more words to sting, no more violence from the swing
of frustration's pent up anger.

For God whispered..."Come"
Trust my Son
Love...the quiet balm that tames the tongue
A healing life that soothes the anxious world...
Jesus.

Susan C. Cunningham

God, the Great Indian Chief
By Staff Writer Sharon Barrett

Legend say there was once a great Indian Chief,
he would return and lead his people to freedom.
Around the council fires at night, this was their belief,
It was spoken of as a truth, no unbelievers were welcome.

Smoking the peace pipe, dancing to the tom-toms,
the medicine man would relate to the young braves.
Of a great Indian Chief who will be reborn, he will come,
he will lead his people, they no longer would be slaves.

Held on reservations like cattle in a pen,
the legend would tell of this chief setting them free.
They would once again call animals there friend,
hunting the foot hills, no longer would they flee

The great Indian Chief would teach the old ways once more,
giving new insight to the ways of the olden days.
Braves would hunt with great skill in the valley floors,
climbing the foot hills, they the young braves.

He will ride down from the sky on a wild steed,
setting up new laws that only his people can follow.
War parties of great numbers he will lead,
mighty armies he will defeat, his promises will not be hollow.

On his mighty steed he will arise once more,
peace across the nations will be at his hand.
All his people then will even the score,
they will walk in freedom across this great land.
Sharon Barrett

The Poetry of Darlene Virginia Quarles

In the Shadow of Thy Wings.

Attend to my prayer,
The dark path, I've trod,
I'm search for thee, this hour.
My heart is sore and pained, within me,
Oh, God, I can't take much more.
My Lord, I need thee--I need thee.
In the shadow of thy wings,
I take my refuge.
In times of trouble--I take cover,
In the shadow of thy wings.
I know when I'm down on my knees,
I'll find you waiting there for me.
I know I can always find comfort
In the Shadow of thy wings.

Judgement Day

I've always been somewhat of a restless soul,
I never listened to what I was told,
I ran wild to let the demons inside me,
free the devil, paints a pretty picture
for those to see.
I had to have what the world could offer.
For the wrong, I've done,
they should cruxify me.
I was brought up by one of God's chosen men,
but I let him down,
I've lived a life of sin.
My loved ones' teachings
could not change my destructive ways.
I will give account for my life on
Judgement Day.
I cannot undo the things I've put you though,
but never once did I stop loving you.
You cried tears of worry, I forgot to wipe away.
Those precious tears will be of blood on that
Great Judgement Day.
1984

Life's Clock

Life's clock is wound but once
and no man hath the power
to know where the hands
will stop
at late or early hour.
To lose one's wealth is sad, indeed.
To lose one's health is more.
To lose one's soul is such a loss,
that no man can restore.
Today, only is our own.
So live, love and toil with a will.
Place no faith in tommorrow,
for the clock may soon be still.

No man knowth the hour.
REVELATION

A Mother of Two

A nation stunned,
Union City News,
How could a mother be so cruel?
If grief was a weight,
it would have crushed this town.
Oh, Susan,
do you know where your soul is bound?
Alex and Michael...
Oh, what a tragedy!
Our sympathy lies with their family.
Everything that happened to you
is totally against my will,
but in that "cold lake"
God whispered,
"Peace Be Still."
I know these babies did not suffer,
God just put them to sleep
because in the Bible it says,
"the children's angels knelt at his feet."
Everything is in a state of change,
seems our lives are God's
to rearrange.
God gave us life,
and he takes it away.
So, God's will be done,
this I pray.

Written in memory of Alex and Michael.
1994

Author's Note: My bio would read something like this:

I was born June 12, 1958. Daddy was a preacher-man. I have lived a simple life in Gordon County, Georgia. I am divorced with two children, and two grandchildren. I believe in God, family, good friends and fine food. My poetry is melancholy with religious overtures.

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