Life Is Too Beautiful


Life is too beautiful
To be written down on paper,
Printed in books,
Expounded online.

Life is too beautiful
To be read in small darkened rooms
By merciless scholars
Too eager to impose their will
On those who still believe
There is an answer.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

A Man, A Name


On this day,
Here on planet Earth,
Another man has taken on the name Pope,
A man,
A name.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Wooden Angel


In my low moments
Her quiescent gaze from atop my bookshelf
Keeps me from falling
Too low.
Her golden wings
Pointed toward heaven,
The palms of her tiny hands
Pressed flat together in perfect alignment of fingers,
In supplication,
Her faint illumination
In the shadowed light of a flickering candle
Helps me find some measure of grace.

Just a painted wooden angel,
Frozen in her flowing robes,
Her back straight and head barely bowed,
Balanced on tireless knees
In her cloud-born symmetry of hope
And mercy.
Her eyes are open,
Open to this man-made world
Which offers so little hope for the innocent
Yet squanders so much mercy on scoundrels.

O angel, how can I ask my selfish blessings
In this world where children suffer and die,
Hour upon hour?
Where are their angels?
What have they done to forsake thee
That they should die so young?
O angels, are you all made of wood?
Is it really up to us after all?

Behold!
The work of angels,
So frequently misunderstood.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Angels Wept


I was thirsty
And my cup was filled.
I was hungry
And food was served upon my plate.
I ate and drank freely
Until my cup was empty,
Until my plate was clean.

I was cold
And I was sheltered.
I was sick
And I was healed.

But the angels wept,
For despite all my blessings,
I’d forgotten to say:
Thank you.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved