Be our guest on this blanket
laid down in God's meadow
Talk awhile with me and my love
lay your head down open your ears
and mind, a sacred glimpse or two into
what may bring you a moment's rest
minutes peace from the fray away from here
Lie gentle for you may be expelled
my love she saw you coming
and it is by her grace I allow you here
she comes goddess angelic
and sworn of graceful protection am I
but be our guest now, she saw you coming
she has me lay down my quiver of lightning
and you your head on her soft lap
her gentle fingers in your hair
God's own smile upon her lips

See this angel here, my love, my Lace...
and I reach out to let the back of my fingers
fall tear drop trickle light down her flush cheek
she loves you already

look around you in Gods' meadow
he has given us lease
be the guest
of songbirds
white clouds
sunshine
and my woman's love
and lie you still for listening

you come confused hurting doubtful
I know I see I come ready for all your questions
and let us begin with your childhood
. it is never ending
. it is life
. it is never too late
. for we all come children to God's meadow
. we are playful loving kind
. in our holy heart of hearts
. our childhood dreams are truth
. welcome your angels back to life now
. the stuff your women and children are made of
. can be yours too my manly friend
. this woman here and me we welcome you
. to your dreams come true for she saw you coming

she saw you coming angry violent hurtful
squeezing my hand trembling remembering
her attempts at loving men like you before
animal shallow power mad forced loving
her childhood used to rape this angel she agonizes
but looks bravely to me,
her man,
her nagga baba
her Warrior Poet King come riding fearless
she smiles that she is loving forgiveness all over
God's own forgiving grin of peace everlasting
on her lips comes the message she whispers

listen to old man wind
and mister cricket
granny bullfrog in the pond
she warns
croak croak croak
her sense of humour
she doesn't mean it
and knows your lease is not expired
and butterflies land on wild roses
and your toes wriggling as my angel
rubs washing your feet
dabbing them dry on her gossamer gown
she tickles a little to hear you giggle
now it seems
you are learning
and can love gently again

. . . . Jack