Maturity?

The chair is warm, from the sun

and it feels so good

on my bum.

My mom at my side

shrinking by and by

in this place she lives for

forcing flowers between the rocks

Blooming stubborn.

Solitary, she has been

more so now, moving slowly,

steadfastly from patch of warm light

to heated golden pools 

bathing tired bones 'til they can rest.

Ane we come to her.

We all come to her.

To do, to help

as she asks passively 

yet with great strength of force

"would you like to...?"

if we do

or we don't

we do, anyways.

Some of us on an eternal quest to

please

Whatever it takes to elicit pleasure

which is seldom forthcoming.

The Joy always elusive

So, I sit and BE

with her

and accept resigned contentment instead.

And let it be enough.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.