God, who writes on stone with a fiery finger, compose on our hearts your will to be done on earth as it is in heaven; for other wills seek to close our minds. Amen.
Author Archives: threadfollower
Finish to Begin
My knowledge extends only to what I know. I know upon finishing this poem I will get up from my desk, turn off the lamp and see the growing light of the greater light spreading across the porch making the things of this world distinct. Later, I will step out into that light satisfied that the structures of the world are in place to make it go around one more day, or at least for the time it takes me to drive to work, place the lunch I made the previous night on the break room counter and sit down at my desk. But first I know I will finish this poem.
Pressing Questions
Why does the Psalmist's cry, "No more oppression!" sound oppressive? Isn't wine created from pressing the grapes?
The Ocean
I want to arrive at the edge of the ocean again, as if for the first time, always, and hear my youngest say, "Boats are on it." And, "The sand is everywhere." And, "The water moves."
Jumbled Prayers
I do not understand the prayers of jumbled letters I throw in the direction of whoever will listen. I pray them anyway knowing that in the praying some ways perish and new ways appear in the along. I pray them for the possible, rare arrival of some peace, my heart communing with the stillness of a morning. I pray them to be less troubled by the persistent roar of the ungodly seeking to destroy the change of mystery. I pray them to rebuke my anger before it moves and wreaks destruction on the loves I love. I pray them tumbling from my lips to remind myself: I am not alone yearning for righteousness. I pray them to negotiate with myself hoping for a lessening of my participation in tyranny. I pray them not to be humble or prideful but simply to sort the jumble and get on with my life.
The Moment Itself
Some say we remember remembering; memory being so elusive it is easy to forget. I want to remember the current collection of events, emotions, accidents, transactions, coincidences and especially the moment I wrapped my daughters in my arms the last time we were all together. Perhaps not the moment itself. Instead, the sense of my arms around their shoulders, the smiles and familiar chatter of sisters, the play of light creating shadows of ourselves on the ground, the wishes for wellness until next we see each other, not knowing our numbers would never be the same.
Promenade
I said, "I dreamed last night of an inchworm measuring the distance of our suffering." She said, "Distance times time equals the speed at which things fall apart." I asked, "Do you think creation could have been made any other way?" She answered, "In the space we inhabit change only happens at the edge of where chaos and order frolic." I asked another question, "Don't take this the wrong way but can I have the next dance?" She replied, "Only if you fondly promise to promenade with me all the way down the corridor of time."
…a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together…” – Ecclesiastes 3:5
God of stone, rock, gravel and of shiny crystals, dancing before us in form and structure billions of years old, knowing the life of an ancient crustacean kept between layers of limestone wrapped like a gift. How can we throw one pebble of our experience away knowing somewhere someone else will pick it up, turn it over and, perhaps, skip us across another lake? Weigh us down. Put a few stones in our pockets, not so we drown in the waters of life, but so we feel the weight of things together and apart. Amen.
After the Memory of Death
I remember my life after death where my body no longer struggles against the struggles which a body longs for thrown into the pool where fear plays. Playful fear splashes in the neighbor's pool making cries mocking the pull of drowning. The mockingbird cries pulling drowning sorrows into the radiance of blue. Blue radiates, mirroring the drops of sorrow upon the neat page listing summer plans. Summer pages turn neatly as plans list according to the number of joyful shouts. I shout with joy counting the number of times I live after the memory of death.
Repentance
In my conversation with God last night God confirmed that God does not have the power to end the universe. Which is a very human quality as humans also set in motion events every moment that cannot be undone even by the most fervent wishes, giving birth to regret and anguish, heartbreak and disappointment, grief and remorse, creating a space for the creation of possibility: repentance.
A Thread You Follow 