Poetry – Page 37 – A Thread You Follow

glass jars

loneliness speaks 
to loneliness 
unable 
to move open 
the curtains 
that hands 
so carefully 
closed 
the night 
before
to remove 
the light
from outside
that spoke
of a quality
of abundance 
found 
in glass jars
holding
small treasures

“…Whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed…” – Romans 13:2

God of kings and queens,
of pontiffs and presidents,
of duly-elected and dictated,
who changes those at the top
to fill the pages of history books,
turn the flow of authority
so the multitude no longer need
to resist to survive.
Amen.

Saturday Morning

The girls hold 
a breakfast picnic 
of chocolate chip muffins
and orange juice
on the sidewalk,
recently covered
with chalk rainbows,
stars, suns,
flowers and creatures
which mirror
the peace
of a summer's
Saturday morning.

enthroned

something brilliant & a joke with no punchline
played over & over repeated for centuries
in the hope that the dead really do come back 
to life & a different resurrection story can
be told to a people made rigid & inflexible from
tales told on late-night shows where sneaky heretics
reveal that god-as-light really does sit on a throne

Hall of Questions

How do you find the light staring into
the hallway mirror at your twin?

Can intimate teaching be found in the midst
of farewell discourses in the entrance hall?

How many ask themselves walking down 
the hall, Will this time be different?

Where does the doorway outline shining
at the end of the hallway come from?

Corridors of Hope

I said, "I just finished reading
a good summation of the 
quagmire we appear to be in."

She said, "This has been a rough 
time with insurgents demanding
peace shouting to be heard."

I asked, "With 'Failure is not an option'
as an option can any of us survive 
the fall of our personal empires?"

She answered, "Not without casualties
to crystallized emotions and creating
powerful memories."

I asked another question, "Can sober
persons holding pre-eminent positions
of power hold the center?"

She replied, "A similar dilemma can be
found in the hearts of those who stand
outside in the corridors of hope."

The Place Between

The drama of commissions
formed in the corridors of power
and intended to make us safer,
or at least feel safer as we go about
our anonymously conspicuous lives,
cannot account for planes flown
into symbolic structures nor for 
the collapse of beachside buildings
nor for falling bridges that span 
the place between what is known 
in the land and that which rests 
peacefully beyond our worst imagined 
horror.

Isn’t it always mystery?

Only after so many years
is it even possible to become
comfortable living in mystery.

And, then, to be followed
by the blessing of being made
uncomfortable again.

“For it is…here a little, there a little…” – Isaiah 28:10

God of bits and pieces,
God of the whole,
who allows the length
of time to pass unabated;
gather up the remnants
leftover from forgotten meals;
mend the fragments
fallen from our hands;
unite the untidy
workings of our minds;
for we are caught up 
in the little we have here
and in the little we have there.
Amen.

Passing Time

spend
the morning
absorbed 
wandering
through the
creative 
rippling
found
in ripening 
journals