Archive - 2016

April 24th

#NaPoWriMo 24: Eucharistic Prayer

The Eucharistic Prayer
pounded the shore
like an ever changing
changeless
wave.

“Holy and gracious Father: In your infinite love”
and the wave paused
as it rolled back
preparing for the next
coming crash.

In the silence
the seabirds could be heard
running ahead of the waves
giggling in the
play and pray area
or wandering down an aisle.

“He stretched out his arms upon the cross”.
another wave crashed
familiar,
powerful,
reassuring.

Still the children fidgeted
parishioners turned pages
and that too
was familiar,
powerful,
and reassuring.

“On the night he was handed over to suffering and death”,
someone forgot to mute their phone
and we were all reminded
of the world he died for.

“Take, eat: This is my Body “
The homeless man
who smelled a bit funky
started to drool.
Saturday had been a rough day
without much bread.

“and when he had given thanks”
It had been a long time
since she had sat amongst friends.
After her husband died
and she moved to be closer to her kids
who would visit her when they could.
She had stopped going to church,
until by chance
she crossed the threshold
one Easter Sunday
and was welcomed.
“We’ve been waiting for you”
Someone seemed to say.

“Therefore we proclaim the mystery of faith”;
the faith of the children playing,
the faith of the hungry homeless man,
the faith of the lonely grandmother,
“in unity, constancy, and peace”
and the waves of grace
continued to pound
the broken shore.

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#NaPoWriMo 23: The Door

There was a door in my dream.
That was it, a simple ordinary door.
It was a solid door
unlike those
you find in so many houses
today
that you could put a fist through
and regret for years.

The door was white
with a nondescript handle
on the left.
It was slightly ajar,
perhaps an inch or two
nothing more.

It was dark on the other side
still hiding something
unknown.

Nothing felt dangerous
about what was on
the other side.
I just needed
to build up my courage
to reach down
turn the handle
and cross the threshold.

I was sure I would enter
brightness and joy
but still
I was afraid.

Then
I awoke
longing
to return
and see
what is on
the other side.

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April 23rd

Catching Up

It’s been a fairly quiet Saturday, a day of rest and of catching up. I posted my poems from Thursday and Friday earlier today. I’ve written the first draft of today’s poem, which I will post later, probably tomorrow. I’ve written in my journal, and some of that may find its way into a blog post and I’ve done more in the Modern Poetry class I’m taking. Some of the stuff I’ve written there will most likely become a blog post later on.

On Facebook, I joined a discussion about altar rails in the Episcopal Church and about the upcoming primary. I added a snarky comment to one discussion about Harriet Tubman on the $20 bill. Some people have been posting comments questioning how they could do that, she’s not a president. Others have pointed out that Franklin and Hamilton weren’t presidents either. The response to that is, “Yeah, but they were founding fathers.”

To this I replied, “How can we maintain the patriarchy if we allow people who aren't fathers on our currency?!

I shared a news article about a judge joining a veteran with PTSD behind bars

For my friends trying to understand mysteries like the incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection, and how we make sense of them; a real life parable:

The kingdom of God is like a judge who sentenced a man to prison, and then spent the night with the man in prison, showing love and sharing personal stories.

I did some laundry, a dump run, and some yard work. Perhaps not as much resting as I would have liked or should have done, but it has been a good day.

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#NaPoWriMo 22: Friday Evening

Day in and Day out
leads into
driving home
on a Friday evening,
with eyelids twitching
and stomach grumbling.

I’ve been to enough meetings
this week
and the world can survive
even if I take
a little time to rest.

Some friends
are asking others,
“how is tonight different
from every other night?”

For too many,
it isn’t.
The sense of
history
and mystery
is lost
in the daily grind.

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#NaPoWriMo 21: Day Poem

I started this poem
about sixteen hours ago;
the first stanzas
about morning prayer,
checking email,
and social media.

They were followed by
breakfast – oatmeal,
a shower,
dressing,
and leaving for work.

A trip to the
just opened
and nearly empty
post office
provided
an unusual
interlude
as a clerk showed great kindness
while we filled out the forms
for my daughter’s passport.

The work day started
with calls from the car
and meetings with activists
all before
noon day prayer.

The afternoon was filled
with technology
and video conferences.
Soon it was time
for evening prayer
and a meeting.

A drive home,
a quick bite to eat
and polishing the poem
concluded the time
before compline and sleep.

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