Monday, March 20, 2017

Diagnosis

Your words are no less plenteous
You still want to connect
communicate
understand and be
understood

I want to transcribe every 
last random ridiculous word
so I will have them all
puzzle pieces to be shuffled around
and reassembled 
so
I won't ever loose you
not even one piece of you

Even now, I see your care
and concern for me, for others
Your willingness to show up 
be faithful
Your legacy inspiring us to
keep constant

Your easy down home charm
leaking from the corners of your
crooked half smile
escaping still
in a responsive a-ha

The broken cogs trying to mesh
make sense of it ALL

Your innate ability to take pleasure
somehow find pleasure in it
ALL - however small

The pearls falling in between
the swiss cheese holes
I'll take the bag - collect your marbles
every one deserving of display
and attention.

All I need to know

Quiet murmurs break the
silence
I fear disturbing the young boy
Outpourings of the deep
now under dim lights

And in ancient times
she appeared deranged
as her lips moved without sound

Kneeling on the hard polished stone
hand resting at the cool marble rain
feeling the years in my knees

Purple diffuses up and around
illuminating magical mosaics now 
dancing and singing their 
fractal originality
and soothing beauty

This place oozes with spirit
Old and new
it has been part of my cosmos
for long years
reaching out and caressing
my soul in a myriad of ghostly touches

Sister's heels
like a metronome, keeping time beside me
walks through quiet desserted halls
classrooms for practice and instruction
begun with imbedded prayers in common

The beginning of multiplicities in my matrix
a way of seeing
a way of being

There is no solo echo in these halls now
The small seed in the crucible has sprouted 
to the riot of a spring cachophany

Young things chirping
Singing the song of the universe

I return
Full circle
to begin again
an unknown journey
with other travelers yet to be introduced

And the small solitary girl?
She remains my constant companion.


Saturday, November 19, 2016

About a Girl

Her poem is called
"Magpie at the roadside"
and I think of you
ever attracted to surface & sparkle.

How I tried when you were 
young to pull you towards
the earth, solid & wet
nourishing something deep inside
and with sick trembling
watched as it seemed you were
one of those girls I could never
like, one who never understood
the intrinsic worth of the spark.

But I just didn't want you to be 
bound.

Then you emerged - this girl
who saw through and still
stayed close
who put up with the drooling
& gaping... 

Even perhaps
embraced it.

Now you dive in
eager to learn
the hills & valleys
the ups & downs.

All the time holding
tenuously to your
own lifeline
close to the bone
exposed & raw
and beautiful
all
the
same - despite what you might feel.

Morning Prayer

Lord, I take moments now
to still in the fury
to know you are here
on this journey, in this process,
in this place
May I listen and know
You
the heart of you
the purity of you
so that I may be like you

Oh, that I be transformed 
to the image of Christ
that I may abide in your
Holy Spirit
that you be well pleased.

May you redeem me
my time
my errors
my transgressions
that others may see
redemption is possible

Salvation is what we
do when we give over
control to all that is
Good
God

May I remain 
humble 
but not crushed
a beloved child
but not immature
a co-labourer
how else can we
be salt and light

Amen.

I Beseech You

Tired of the back and forth
to’ing and fro’ing
wishing you could all
just get it together.

This has to fit
If what we believe is
True, 
then it must, therefore fit 
with that which is revealed.

Reveal yourself, Lord
in all your glory and splendor
too wonderful to even consider
so mind blowing you must
stay hidden.

Revealed in the smoke
Hidden in the fire, eternally burning.

Are you the spark
Pure energy of the universe?

Will you continue to
only reveal yourself
in story
and narrative
in a rustle,
a blowing wind
in tongues of fire
in messy flesh and blood?

Perhaps there is more
before the beginning
and even more after
The End.


Tyndale Chapel

Gone

I have to write now
before it slips away
before you slip away

Dark wet night
the gray month of November
made black
by your impending departure

How to distill your eighty
three
years
your unique joi de vivre
your je ne sais quoi

Celebrating your love of words
and language and life
and how those french words helped you hang on
a few days longer

Your strong thick hands I still
want to hold - even though
they've wasted these 6 weeks
of your rapid slow fall off that cliff.

You continue to speak truth
even if it's difficult...
"it'll be over soon"
"I gotta get out of here"
as you try so hard to connect
to communicate, to really see
each one, names, places, roots, the whole, us.

Now you've gone
left us
the sun refuses to not shine
even as the last dried leaves
fall and blow.

It is supposed to be bleak
but all your gifts and care shine bright
undulled by your (and our)
inevitable
decay.

Something endurable
safe for eternity.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

The Curse

The artist sees
    and offends those who refuse to see



The prophet tells
    and offends most who will not listen

Child


She ran
yards ahead of them
first out of the blocks
fluid limbs
the tiny athlete
perfect form without instruction

they ran too
no course, no track, no destination
but plain to see - there was
no flailing of body parts
only smooth locomotion
the open sky
the empty long hallway
wide space begging for definition

noise needing to be made
games needing to be played
laughter to be brought forth
singing erupting, no audience
necessary

When,
which day, what hour
did we forsake this simple playground for the 
anxious and barren wasteland
we now stumble through?

Inspiration


Tripped over a young poet 
as I tumbled through webs of words
she is good 
and she will cut out her own guts
slowly
with a dull knife
to make you feel 
something

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Untitled


Today's the day we kissed on navy street
a new thing
a sweet thing

you, unnerved by my surprise
your reserve the source of my 
astonishment

today's the day 
we confirm Our Day 
to be sure
19 is a good number

and 48 is long enough to know
I never want you to go

so stay, you will
by my side til
the lights dim
until it's time to say
farewell
goodnight
my
love

Monday, September 05, 2011

Breathe

River of essence
slide over tongue
trickle down gullet
perfusion of warmth
I crave you
or something like you
or the effects of you


Grasping, pursuing
doesn't work


I try something new
rest in it
let it come
let the tendrils stretch 
across my face
like a slow outstretched
hand
fingers 
long and lean, boney


unfurl on me
imbed in my flesh
become part of my microcosm


I'll breathe
and cast aside doubt
are you friend or foe
neither or both


but please
just stay
close


because by now
your abdication
would just rip 
and be
the devastation
of me

Thursday, June 02, 2011

Pure (Mother)

We rush and fuss
And run and cook and plan
Because we need you to know
That your years matter to US

We gather to honour
Pay tribute and laud
The Mother we love
The Woman you are

Yes, we tease
All your delightful entricities
As you offer us
A nice sang-wich
And a glass of melk
Poured from a bohtle

Not bothered, you shrug
You know who you are

And we remember
How you told us
Our little fingers were the perfect size
For cleaning in this little corner
right over here
Be sure to get right in there

And how “that’s a good job for you”
Always meant it would be a recurring one

But as you work so hard
For us, for others, for beauty

What I see is your heart
Rising again to face another day
Your heart reaching out
Doing for others
Your best offer for nurturing
Pulling from all of us, strangers and friends
Our best efforts on behalf of others

You are
Pure
Mother.

LIFELINE

To the one I love

My Pearl
My Girl
Mag, Maggie, Magpie
Our Dolly, Molly

I give you this gift
As a life line  _________

Take up this pen
Like a sword
And FIGHT

Fight for your life
Scratch lines in this paper
As if it were your skin

Pour out this ink as if it were
blood

Write and draw and doodle and rhyme
As if your life depends on it

Because it does

FIGHT

And pour it out
All of it
Happy and sad
Scarred and beautiful
Broken and chipped

Because this is life
This is YOUR life
(it just is)

So shout it loud
And write it proud

And never forget, I love you
All that you are
All that you once were
All that you will become

Because, you’re my girl.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Reverie


Little tattered book of scribbles,
the thought of losing you,
misplacing all my work,
my progress (impossible
for you are printed, pressed upon my soul).


Oh, despair may set in.
You are
treasured only 
by me, but
that's enough
to mark your worth


Five long years, or is it ten?
of slogging
digging
uprooting
unpacking
unearthing


Sorting
classifying
discarding
rearranging and 
selecting
what and how
I shall order my life
my thoughts
and flourish with 
all HE has given me


I love to trace the path
and marvel at its twists
and turns,
descents and then
restoration.


I see HIS hand on me
sometimes painfully
but permanently.


And I choose to accept
that this is enough.
HE and me.