Wednesday, August 17, 2016

And God said

Plans were made
activities scheduled
supplies bought
lawns mowed
houses cleaned
dress altered
tux ordered

and so on.

And then

God said

no

Here's what I want
for you

to slow down
to take it easy
to listen to Me
to listen to you,

the deep down you that
needs more than
busyness
and stress.

It will all work out
just as you planned

but I need your attention
and you need your attention

right now.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

...make us...

You
you are
you are a channel
of His peace.

When I hear from three of
my five sisters
and
my father
all within the space of 24 hours,
when a year ago,
there would be weeks
if not months of
radio silence,
I clearly see and feel
how something has changed
and it started with you.

You challenged me to be more
to open my heart to you
and then again to my family of origin.
After so many years of muted pain
there is a trickle of love
and hope
and future
flowing through this newly cleared channel.

A year ago,
I would have projected that
all of this
all of this
would have been totally impossible.
Yet
the sun never sets on His love
His hope for his children to
love each other anew
as He never stops loving us
all of us.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Evening picnic





















A trail of rose petals
from garage door to bed,
you waiting on your knees,
a big grin on your face

but a little worry in your eyes
that I might not 'like' this.

Oh, but I did, my love.

The bed draped with a red checked cloth
red plates, red napkins, red-faced...

A tray arrayed in red fabric
with strawberries, olives, almonds
assorted meats, cheeses, crackers

After an appropriate dress code is achieved,
he slowly hand feeds me our dinner picnic
talking quietly about our respective days

loving each other with each word, each bite,
each touch, each moment

Gentle spoonfuls of mango sorbet
complete our repast

The only ants are the two pomeranians
circling the base of the bed,
hoping for a bite.

(Written and posted for Mid-Week Motif, Poets United, "Picnic", 5/25/16)

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Home at last

Living in my body
Anchored in the moment
Peace in my head
All new sensations
new thoughts
new goals

Finally at home
in my own skin
after years of not really
living there, always regretting
the past and anticipating
the future
worrying about other's perceptions
instead of discovering my own

Busy shoving myself into
the molds and expectations of
the world around me
never realizing
until now
that I was never home
in me.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Conflication

Standing, trembling, in the pew
listening to the ancient ritual,
automatically responding in age-old words
    (that now, somehow, have new meaning)
to the exhortations of the priest,
my Inner Children are wide-eyed
with wonder at the well known
story of death and resurrection,
their faith pure and hopeful,
their trust absolute.

I watch them, kneeling/sitting/standing,
hands clasped with fervor and belief,
heads bowed with reverence
and long for their innocence,
their certainty, their unquestioning commitment.

My eyes are fixed, too, on the Holiest of Holies,
grateful to be at this Easter vigil Mass,
once my favorite service of the year.

How can I become free of the religious hurts
the judgments and betrayals
the 'less than', the very second best
femaleness of who I am
and reconcile with
this patriarchal structure
that is certain it knows what is best for me
though that rejoining always seem to involve
a sacrifice of self and identity that is simply
unbearable
and
unacceptable?

Yet...I miss the soothing rituals, the lullaby and
instruction of scripture and homily, and yet

the old anger burns
low but steady.

The lash of damnation will never be allowed
to cut my spiritual skin again, but
the joy of faith and service...
ah, it calls to me.

As does that Presence, strongest during
the familiar Consecration, that healing,
the Oneness so complete.

Yet...it burns. And I do not know how to be
free.




Friday, January 29, 2016

Strawberry tower





















Sunday mornings -
after the endless, mind-numbing Mass -
our then-family of six
would race the few blocks
from the church over
to the Village Inn restaurant
for breakfast.

The privilege and extreme treat
of going out was allegedly
completely dependent on us
kids behaving during the service.

If we had ALL been successful at
not fidgeting in our itchy dresses
on hard wooden pews
through the interminable droning
of the priest and mystifying,
eternal rituals of sitting/standing/kneeling,

   (and had resisted
   the urge to pinch or tickle a sister or
   even give her a look out of the corner of one's eye
   or cried because one was just too
   little to sit still for over an hour
   or rustled the pages of the missal too loudly
   or kicked one's shoes
   against the kneeler or floor or
   the pew in front of you - horrors!
   or fiddled with the lace/hat pinned
   to unruly curls -
   the list of infractions was
   interminable and ever evolving
   as well),

it was time for fun!

Four little heads bent over the
coloring place mats provided by
a friendly waitress, busily employing
crayons to tint pictures, connect dots,
and (for older ones) figure out mystery
words and puzzles while our parents
murmured and sipped coffee.

But the best part was the pancakes.

This was before we had discovered
the mandatory glories of bacon.

Pancakes as big as a plate,
heavily decorated with the whipped
cream stylings of the day's cook
with strawberries strewn in decadent
abandon over the crisp tender disks.

Powering through this sugary treasure,
one carefully and thoroughly chewed
dainty bites of sweetness at a time, savoring
the cream, the cakey richness,
and the fresh jeweled fruit, delicately
dusted with powdered sugar.

Never imagining that some day,
I would be sitting at work, sipping a
protein shake, typing away,
while visions of strawberry tower
breakfasts with my little sisters would
sweeten my memories.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Electronically cradled

"They" say that we are
too plugged in and
have fatally isolated ourselves
with our use of
and dependence on
screens and devices.

I beg to differ.

I have never felt as loved
as uplifted
as cheered on
as understood
as I am now by my family and friends
fellow travelers
in the virtual world.

This connectivity may seem superficial to
some
but to me,
it is deeply meaningful
to get texts, calls, emails, and messages
24 hours a day
from family and friends,
local and international,
missives bursting with information,
moral support,
emotional underpinning my day
and my life
every day.

I never feel lonely, abandoned, or
suicidally indifferent

(like I used to.)

I am loved.
Connected.
Certain.
Simple.

The electronica also assist me
to be organized, to be my 'brain'
in remembering my commitments
and tasks and anniversaries,
and indeed, the Web is like a
part of my mind -
an external storage of sorts
for anything I
ever wanted to know,
on tap
in an instant.

It even seems that God can use
the Internet and all these inventions
to further His hopes and purpose
for us because now,
not only is His Word disseminated
more fully and farther than ever
in human history,
the intuitive thought of another
is the deed in moments,
as I reach out to others
in likewise manner
to lift them up from their reclusive despair
to celebrate their victories and achievements.

Of course, anything can be used or perceived
in negative or harmful ways, but that is the
fault of the user, not the means.

I observe those that are NOT plugged in
as the ones who are missing out
and isolating themselves
from the love and care of
the world.