Spiritually Significant Mounts

 

 

Spiritually Significant Mounts

Is what I’ve named this poem,

Starting with the testing of Abraham

To the New Jerusalem.

 

Each mount is of significance:

Of a significance that is spiritual

And mostly speaks to some triumph

Re the children of Israel.

 

From mount Moriah to Sion

From Abraham to Christ,

The penultimate mount of Calvary

Where Jesus was crucified.

 

Called from a land of pagans,

I speak of Abraham,

His was to follow the lead of God

To the promised land.

 

 

But a crucial test lay ahead

To show him who held full sway,

On the way that led to the promised land

Mount Moriah was in the way.

 

The offering up of Isaac

The son that Abraham loved

And Abraham was definitely convinced

The command was from above.

 

There upon mount Moriah

God held back his hand

And provided a substitute sacrifice,

A foreshadowing of His lamb.

 

The lamb already slain

Before the foundation of the world;

The lamb, the Lord Jesus Christ

The written and living Word.

 

From mount Moriah to Horeb

From Abraham to Moses,

One of the greatest leaders ever to live

But Israel’s heads were like sieves.

 

A rebellious and stiff-necked people

Prone to quickly lose hope

Who, after witnessing God’s miracles,

Still found it difficult to cope.

 

 

Introducing mount Sinai

Where Moses received God’s law,

The mount that burnt with great fire

Forcing Israel to withdraw.

 

Now with the tablets of stone

Given to Moses on the Sinai’s mount,

The children of Israel had God’s law

That held them to account.

 

 

Required to depart mount Horeb

To enter the promised land,

The fear-struck children of Israel

Would ignore God’s command.

 

Just an eleven days journey

Would be turned into forty years

As they wandered in the wilderness

And died along the way.

 

Just two: Joshua and Caleb

Would enter of the original set,

The rest wandered in the wilderness

Until their deaths they met.

 

To mount Sinai, they came again

With Moses at the head,

Remember, of those he left Egypt with,

All but two were dead.

 

On the threshold of Canaan land

Now for the second time

However, Moses would not be able to enter,

He would be left behind.

 

 

God allowed him to view it

From mount Nebo's lofty height,

Up to the summit of the mount he climbed

And took in the lovely sight.

 

Fast forward to mount Carmel

Where a great victory was wrought,

Baal’s prophets versus the prophet Elijah;

The former were left distraught.

 

Baal was a definite no show

And his prophets miserably failed,

They shouted and even cut themselves

But all this to no avail.

 

Compared to the fuss they made

And with nothing to show,

Elijah simply called on the Lord

And the sacrifice was aglow.

 

It even licked up the water

That was in the trench around,

That unusual day on mount Carmel

The fire of the Lord came down.

 

 

And now to the mount of Olives

Where Jesus often sat

And from where he would minister

To the multitudes of their lack.

 

It was there He prophesied

About the temple’s pending destruction

And of many other tribulations

To come on that generation.

 

In Matthew, Mark and Luke

The details can be found

And all these events would be witnessed

By some standing around. 

 

 

Mount Calvary is next up

Where Jesus was crucified,

There his mission was accomplished

When for sinners he died.

 

From Abraham to Christ

From Mount Moriah to Calvary,

The plan of redemption culminating

In glorious victory.

 

“It is finished!” Jesus said,

The cry of the vanquisher,

The head of the serpent was crushed

By the Lamb of God our Saviour.

 

Next the glorious resurrection

Followed by Pentecost,

None indwelt by the Holy Spirit

Need not fear being lost.

 

 

This innumerable band

Known as the elect or born again

Is come to mount Sion, the city of God

Where the King of kings reigns.

 

Spiritually Significant Mounts

Dotting the road to redemption,

Starting with the testing of Abraham

To the heavenly Jerusalem.

 

Stewart Russell © May 31, 2024

 

With Heavy Heart

 

 

My heart is heavy

On this overcast day,

A life has been snuffed out

In a horrific way.

 

The life of a youngster

So full of promise

But snatched away from us

As in a death wish.

 

But whose wish?

Certainly not his dad,

Or his mom or his siblings;

They are too sad.

 

Or his schoolmates

Or his friends,

Not one of these was happy

When he met his end.

 

Heartless, I would say,

Regarding his assassin,

On account of whom his light

Is now dimmed.

 

I did not know him

But now I do

And I guess the same can be said

For you too.

 

 

‘Tis a heavy heart

On this overcast day

Reflecting on a life of promise

Brutally snatched away.

 

Our hearts ache

As though he were ours

And he is in our thoughts

Every waking hour.

 

Stewart Russell © March 28, 2025

The Silence Is Deafening

 

 

That the silence is deafening

Is perhaps why we cannot hear,

A numbness now so accustomed to,

It’s just a momentary fear.

 

A nine-day wonderment

And this too will be forgotten

Amidst words of impressive rhetoric

From the PM and Opposition.

 

John King’s “How many more”

Chokes me one more time

As I attempt to turn this matter over

In my overworked mind.

 

All of this after we were told

By a top legal and top constabulary

We may go about our business as usual,

There's no need to worry.

 

The deflection and side stepping

Are at work again

And the real culprits are enabled

And continue to reign.

 

The whole weight comes down

On the shooter of the gun

And the police must chase the assassin

That is now on the run.

 

 

But no note of the importer

That brought in the gun,

Not one is being brought to justice:

No, not one!

 

Do you mean to tell me

Gun importers are so elusive

To evade the police intelligentsia?

Why that’s impressive!

 

Flying below police radar

Or better still, high up above,

These operators can’t be apprehended

For money or for love.

 

Another one bites the dust!

This time, a thirteen-year-old

And mere sentiment is poured out

O’er his body cold.

 

Why wasn’t he at home

Preparing for school?

Did they not know this is an area

Where illegal guns rule?

 

Why of everybody out there

He was the only one shot?

It’s as though this aspiring schoolboy

Was central to some plot.

 

Come on right thinking bajans

Do not cloud up the issue,

Those that are ultimately responsible

Are not the shooting youth.

 

 

But people in high places

Like in politics or commerce

Where the dollar sign is the bottom line

And after which some thirst.

 

One top cop iterated

It is through legitimate ports

Yet none of these illusive importers

Come before our courts.

 

Target the gun importers

And make it difficult for them,

Deal with the symptoms for sure

But also, the problem.

 

 

 

And when they are discovered

Do not cover up the info,

Regardless of profile or prominence

John public needs to know.

 

So that this youth’s demise

And the several gone before

Would be remembered as the catalyst

That shut the gun import door.

 

For the silence is deafening

And our youth are dying

And the importers of the damnable guns

Are the only ones thriving.

 

Stewart Russell © March 27, 2025

 

No You Can't

 

 

You cannot know

What you cannot know,

To the geniuses among us

That’s a terrible blow.

 

But what is there

That can’t be known?

You could ask Alexa or Siri

On your cellphone.

 

Try it with Alexa

And see what she’d say

Or ask the brilliant Siri;

Try it today.

 

It is non-sensical

And not worth the time

To have such an endeavour

Clutter up my mind.

 

Rather, I entreat you,

Treat to it as just that

And simply acknowledge this

As an unknown fact.

 

For if you can know

What you cannot know

Then what you cannot know

Is nothing to know.

 

 

You cannot know

What you cannot know

So, rather than waste time,

Admit it is so.

 

Can God know

What cannot be known?

Well, I asked the brilliant Alexa;

It was out of her zone.

 

I asked Siri too

But Siri seemed confused

And given Siri’s vast knowledge

I was amused.

 

 

Herein is a tenet

Which is absolutely true,

The secret things belong to God,

Not to me or to you.

 

Stewart Russell © January 14, 2025

 

Can We Be Sure?

 

 

Can we be absolutely sure

Concerning what we believe?

If only I could know that

I would be relieved.

 

You believe there is a God

I believe that too

But how can I be absolutely sure

That is really true?

 

If faith is the evidence

Of things not seen

How can I really be sure

God is more than my dream?

 

If I cannot see God

With my physical eyes,

How can I believe

Though the Bible says He is nigh?

 

The just shall walk by his faith:

That’s what I am trying to do

But how can I know for sure

That God is really true?

 

Perhaps you criticize me

And think I am slack

That after all of these years

My faith still has lack.

 

 

But I will tell you this

Whether you believe it or not,

Concerning God’s Word

I believe every tittle, every jot.

 

On this side of Glory

I may be sometimes unsure

But God gives faith for my journey

And He gives so much more.

 

I don’t have to prove anything

Why I believe in God,

But to manifest His love

And to spread Christ abroad.

 

I take great confidence

In what He has said to me

And that becomes my assurance

As I walk with Him daily.

 

He says, “I am with you,

I will help your unbelief,

Continue to walk in My Spirit

And I will bring you relief.

 

And when the moments come

That doubt clogs up your mind,

Continue believing my child,

I have been there all the time.

 

There’re times you will feel me

And there’re times you won’t

But don’t go by your feelings,

My child, please don’t!

 

All I ask is that you trust me

Even when there appears no trace

And you’ll be absolutely sure

When you see me face to face."

 

Stewart Russell © October 2018

 

It’s Tic not Tac

 

 

Quite a number of words

You will find end in tic,

Let’s go where relics are found:

Let’s go up in the attic.

 

We should examine them thoroughly

Hence, let us be analytic!

Or, we can number them

As in Arithmetic.

 

We can arrange some of them

In an acrostic

Maybe to spell out a word

Like charismatic.

 

You get to choose your words

As in democratic

And let no one accuse you

Of being dogmatic.

 

Here is a good opportunity

To engage a critic,

Hopefully that one’s criticism

Will not be too drastic.

 

One exposed to harsh criticism

Can become a skeptic

And his appraisal of another

Could be rather septic.

 

On the other hand

One can become overly ecstatic

And, if not kept under control,

Can also become problematic.

 

 

Persons opposed to criticism

Are often seen as egotistic

And the attempt to convince such persons

May be rather optimistic.

 

This attempt to be poetic

May have been somewhat pathetic

But I beg your indulgence:

Please do not be sarcastic.

 

For me right now

That would be too traumatic

But I would not object to any treatment

That is therapeutic.

 

 

To write a poem on tic

Cannot be very romantic

And I dare say in my own defense

Nor particularly scholastic.

 

It is not about the specific,

Rather more like the sporadic

And since I am my worst critic,

It’s certainly not terrific.

 

This is symptomatic

Of the analytic

Whose approach is rather idiotic

Not to mention ballistic.

 

As one who loves the aesthetic

I can only be apologetic

For what must be the frantic mind

Of a mental paralytic.

 

An abundance of static brain cells

That are no longer dynamic,

However, help is on the way…

Don’t panic!

 

Stewart Russell © June 19, 2021

 

A Wreck on Life’s Highway

 

 

I was motoring down life’s highway

At quite a crazy clip

Negotiating some difficult turns

Not even caring about a slip.

 

Oh, I was a fantastic driver

With quite a bit of skill

And knowing just how great I was

There was no chance of a spill.

 

In my early years there was challenge

With quite a few in the home,

So many mouths to feed

No television, no piped water or phone.

 

At primary school I was avoided

As though I were the plague,

At secondary school I buckled down

And those memories became somewhat vague.

 

I did really well at school

Though I never came first in tests,

But whenever the scores came back

I was always among the best.

 

University was not as easy

But I adjusted to the task

And when I graduated,

My achievements were all first class.

 

On leaving school I landed a job

That paid a good salary,

That was the beginning of the trend

That changed my reality.

 

I really began to enjoy life

And motored towards my dream,

I left that initial poverty

Way back in my slipstream.

 

Out of the turns and into the straights

I motored on with ease

Steadily increasing my speed

Enjoying the rush of the breeze.

 

The rough time I had growing up

Was a far and distant memory,

The thrill I now enjoyed

Was a thing of rarest beauty.

 

My family I had left behind,

So were the church and Sunday school,

That kind of controlled life

Was for the poor and wretched fool.

 

I was fast into my groove,

This was what I had dreamed about,

Dollars flittering through my hand

And carrying a lot of clout.

 

Then I was really somebody,

I was held in great respect,

I was well to do and held my own,

My past was my only regret.

 

In the circle where I moved

Were the persons that were rich,

They were born into wealth galore

And never fell into the ditch.

 

They often boasted of their past,

Their present and future were secure,

I had to put up with their lengthy boast,

To me my past was a bore.

 

Occasionally I would hear or read

Of the passing of a relative

But that would filter through my mind

Like the proverbial sieve.

 

I had no time for such,

Sometimes I would send a card

But to attend, no way!

Those memories were already quite hard.

 

I really wanted to forget

My horrid growing-up past

Even though among my company

I did not belong in their class.

 

They merely tolerated me

For what I could do for them,

The jobs that they could never do

It was I they would always send.

 

They had the wealth but not the brains,

I was the lawyer in the group

But to maintain my membership

To their every request I would stoop.

 

To me that was a small price to pay

For the reputation that I enjoyed,

Where they went I was also seen

I was one of their envoys.

 

Money… there was more than just enough,

Friends in high places… more than a few,

Dignitaries, celebrities, the rich and famous,

All persons that everyone wished he knew.

 

These were all known to me,

They were at my fingertips,

I was having the time of my life

Just being with them on their trips.

 

What a drive as I motored along!

What a scintillating experience!

Compared to the struggle that I once endured

This was a desirable variance.

 

As the dizzying results reached my head

My foot responded in kind,

To the floorboard I pressed life’s pedal

And enjoyed the passage of time.

 

I took an extreme delight

In many a poor man’s plight,

The fact of the matter really was,

His nighttime was my glowing light.

 

As he suffered I prospered,

His discomfort added to my gain,

His representation was to my benefit

Even though it caused his pain.

 

I was my superiors’ puppet

But the poor was under my control,

And every one that I deceived

Took me closer to my goal.

 

To be rich and wealthy was my aim,

Nothing else could satisfy,

Whatever it cost to stake my claim

Nothing or no one dare deny.

 

I may be a puppet on their string

But I also had a plan,

At some point along the way

I would play the ace in my hand.

 

I should have slowed to take that curve

Instead my foot had remained flat,

I showed what I thought had been an ace

But it was the joker of the pack.

 

My journey came to a grinding halt,

My car would not respond,

I cranked the engine again and again

But there was not a sound.

 

I looked around for my support,

None of them was around,

They had set me up for this hard fall

Now I was prison bound.

 

I was smart but they were smarter,

At the time I could not see,

What they had I really wanted,

I did not care what it would cost me.

 

And as I hurtled down life’s highway

My ace was from their deck,

Too late I realized I had been fooled

Now I am a total wreck.

 

A wreck along life’s highway,

Another wreck by the side of life’s road,

Intoxicated by avarice and greed,

I ignored the highway’s code.

 

 

Lying on my back on my prison bed

My view my prison cell ceiling,

A lifetime incarcerated here

And not a hope after appealing.

 

Freedom is a precious gem

And liberty a pearl of great price,

The love of money is snow on life’s road

And avarice is like black ice.

 

My driving days are over,

My license has been revoked,

My friends are rollicking with laughter,

I am the butt of their joke.

 

Time after time I pinch myself

To stir me from this dream,

But then I hear the clang of a gate

Or hear a prisoner scream.

 

O how I wish with all my might

I could turn back the hands of my clock,

If only at best to my early past

That’s far better than this prison block.

 

If you are young and being care free

Don’t drive, rather I advise, take a trek,

It’s a better way to travel along life’s road

And avoid becoming one of life’s wrecks.

 

Stewart Russell © 2015