Poetry
Poetry
#NaPoWriMo 16: Construction
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 04/17/2016 - 18:56The sunlight glistens
off the new bridge
support scaffolds
and the towering cranes
beside
the rusting
old bridge.
#NaPoWriMo 15: #MissionalVoices Day 1
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Fri, 04/15/2016 - 19:48The text for today,
the speaker started off,
and I reached for my cellphone
before I realized
he was talking about
a much older message
received thousands of years ago;
“The Valley of Dry Bones”.
I read that text
during the great Easter Vigil
this year.
It seems as if lot of old texts
have been reaching out to me
grabbing me,
recently.
It’s like I’ve been hearing voices;
not the kind they treat you for,
at the behavioral health clinic,
but the ageless voice
that Isaiah and Ezekiel heard.
“These bones are the people of Israel”
These bones are my bones,
that have been dried up
for decades.
Lord, breathe on me.
These bones are the dying mainstream churches of America
in maintenance mode
that needs to stop waiting
for the crowds to cross
the narthex
whatever that is
and instead,
head out
to the laundromat.
“Can these bones live?”
Perhaps, if someone will prophesy,
but who will sing
the Lord’s song
in a strange land.
“Here I am Lord,
Send me.”
#NaPoWriMo 14: #WhatIMake #MissionalVoices The Lamb's Pot Luck
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Thu, 04/14/2016 - 08:39“Unused creativity is not benign”
I ponder these words
on my drive to work
as I wonder
what’s blocking me
from fully using
my creativity.
I remember choirs
in childhood
when I couldn’t hit
the right notes
and was ridiculed
and ashamed.
I remember looking at paintings
by classmates
that were so beautiful
and mine,
so plain.
I remember going to concerts
or reading poems
and thinking,
“I could never do that”.
As I grew,
I used less and less
of my creativity
“Unused creativity is not benign”
it metastasizes
into shame, anger, fear, hate.
This weekend
my daughter is organizing a conference
for makers.
I’m going to a different conference
on missions.
Perhaps
these conferences are related
Perhaps
the Great Maker
wants us healed
to own our own
creativity.
Perhaps
the Lamb’s High Feast
is pot luck,
with all of us invited
as restored makers.
Notes: “Unused creativity is not benign” comes from Brene Brown in an interview she did with Elizabeth Gilbert, as does the idea of it metastasizing.
#NaPoWriMo 13 Preparing for #MissionalVoices
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Wed, 04/13/2016 - 19:02When I was younger
my older brother
would hike long sections
of the Appalachian Trail.
Beforehand,
he would gather supplies
as he made sure
his equipment
was waterproofed
and broken in.
When I go to conferences
I like to prepare
by reading the schedule
the speakers biographies
and finding out anything else I can
about what I am likely to encounter.
When I go on a road trip
I like to gather food for eating
along the way.
I like to map out my route
and make sure I have enough
listening material
for the trip.
I’ve been reading
about the Camino de Santiago
and wonder how people prepare.
Now, there are websites
and travel guides,
but what about centuries ago?
Friday, I will hit the road
I have my books on tape.
I’ve read about the conference.
I need to pack clothes, meds, and food,
and hope the kidney stone
doesn’t act up.
But this is just the physical journey.
What about the spiritual journey?
I hope to discover
something I don’t yet know.
How do we prepare for this
other than getting a scallop shell?
#NaPoWriMo 12: Confession of Murder
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Tue, 04/12/2016 - 18:25This morning
at the close of Morning Prayer,
the bell tolled for Kenneth
and a little bit of me died
after a very long illness.
Kenneth was created in God’s image.
God loved Kenneth
but others did not.
He suffered abuse and neglect
at the hands of his mother’s
hard drinking
violent boyfriends.
That was forty years ago
when the scars
of Jim Crow
were fresher.
What they did to Kenneth
was horrible.
What Kenneth did to Cathy
was worse,
and what the juror said
only compounded it all.
We have not loved
our neighbors as ourselves.
We have failed to offer hope
to those that only find it in a bottle.
We have failed to protect
the children in their care.
We have failed to end
the scourge of racism,
and Cathy died
and now Kenneth dies,
and all of us
die a little bit too.
