Life Unfolded

Life Unfolded
Beauty I hold
A child

I too
A child
Once held
In arms was told
To gather hope, to love to wonder, to unfold
Into bright sun-flamed delight.

One day
I met you,
You who hold
Eternity in the twinkling
And the sun and all delight in your hand.

A child
Held in arms
Gathering hope,
Unfolding a time
For majesty, found in poverty
For power, found in meekness
For forgiveness, found in the friendship of a peace prince

I found a friend in a reigning King,
Wonder, love
In a hero to behold.
Hope gathered
Life unfolded.

By Jonathan McCallum


Star Ablaze

A stable birth,
Red, messy, wet, naked,
Star ablaze.
In Palestine, the West Bank.
Through warmth and pain, the earth may rejoice
Your birth,
Peace arrived in the fragile newborn.

A dangerous unarmed rabbi-to-be,
Ready to overturn empires, overrule kings, cast off any allegiance to the world-of-just-now.
Bearing a kingdom of hope, of living the moment, of eternal love.
Not arriving from above, but from within, a teenage Miriam, a womb for a while.

Heart-yearn for abundance and free,
Some abide on shore of the love-filled ocean.
We find shelter and learn to swim in the waves of your kindness
That will never stop, never cease caring for us.

By Jonathan McCallum

Peace Song

Chill of ice-licked wind, gray fog, spluttering dust, rain to mud.
We huddle beneath forest canopy.
Smoldering logs, bread broken out, wine, fish.
The afternoon light exchanged for cool starlight.
A cross of logs and
Glimmering, unburning spikes flicker.
A moment glimpsed, remembered
When the world was given a chance again for peace.
But still I see swords, I see weapons, I see children crying for their loved ones.

Orange golden-kissed sunlight drenches sideways into soul,
Showing a green rolling land,
A land for these:
A land for those that wage not war, but peace
A land for the ones who love peace

I hear a song rolling down, a cascading chorus.
It is not a song of any one nation, claiming to have it all,
Nor a song of the powerful, reading the world through the glasses of “success”.
It is a song of the broken,
A song of the poor,
A song not excluding the rich or powerful
Yet commanding them to value it all, give it away and follow the way
Danced with steps of peace.

By Jonathan McCallum

Dance Within

I cannot
so to syllables I go.
scattering sounds,
sketching something from a landscape within.
to reach
to be drenched
in fields, brooks, flowing clear among green
waterfalls of ice to liquid snow, flowing off mountain cliffs.

life wonderfully bright,
(more than I admit)
cold at night
yet there is star mixed with lunar light.

I hear within while I’m without,
in nature alone:

Be among the
simple things
natural things
dance within the breeze,
move among the sea,
sway beneath the forest canopy,
run under the bright cloud and warming sun.

so I move
almost dance

life is richer
when I allow myself
to become momentarily
lavishly spending
fuller, more pleasurable moments

By Jonathan McCallum

give us rest

A distant sleepy dawn,

I see me, as Peter, fireside afraid.

Jesus burnishing bright hope in the fire’s light.


Wood, hands, Death, spear, stone,



Nowadays a ceremony spoken, or mostly listened to.

Juice-filled plastic cups, bread already broken, passed from row to row.

Even if there are never enough air-conditioned seats to hold the entire world,

There will always be enough of You,

Welcoming all with new wine, deeply flowing,

Refreshing with plenty of fresh bread.


I am seeking, feebly, like many for


To celebrate, eat, and drink palate-tingling grapes

In, outside of and always beyond the ceremonies.



You rise to shine.


Shining broader than a Sunday’s hour,

Shining on every nation,

Shining even on those who aren’t inside the brick walls on Sunday.


You didn’t fit, or walk in the door either.

You knocked, called out.

We were locked in, busy discussing, worrying or just

Wondering what to do.

So you just stepped through, forgetting bricks, walls.


You entered in.

You made a way so that all can come in,

A way of wood and nails.


Remind me of your way,

Your way of rest, forgiveness.

Forgiving the prostitute over the law teachers.

Healing the outcast sick as the elite doctrinally precise fumed.


As we celebrate,

Let’s lay no other burdens than forgiveness,

Let’s see that it’s not just for you, for me,

It’s for everyone.


Let’s escape from religious law,

To abundant, ongoing life.

There is something beyond Easter.

Someone who will give us rest.

Jesus, you are fresh new life at its best.

By Jonathan McCallum