April 12, 2019
April 12, 2019
Today, for National Poetry Month, I offer you the grace of these lines by fellow poet and friend, Lesley-Anne Evans. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Lament of Water
Snow this morning
after several days of deep freeze.
Slow flakes freed from sky
lay themselves at earth’s feet:
So much emptying.
This time of year the creek
I would love to live like a river flows…
is crusted, flow invisible to passersby
and their dogs, but I hear her speak.
She will transport continents
at spring break-up, downed trees,
bloated islands of of animals;
the elders, the dying.
…carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.
I sit in my windowed room while the sun
peels back morning, each snowflake
whispers earth as in heaven.
Each day and its relentless giving,
I do not ask yet I receive what
I do not know I need. Such gifts
I would love to live…
of shadow and of blinding light;
how much longer, LORD,
Lines from John O’Donohue’s Unfinished Poem
April 10, 2019
April 9, 2019
When, if not now?
A recluse to your own life,
are you banished from your own time and space?
When should you emerge from solitary submersion
into mental goat-cheese hills,
clouds coating molasses hillsides, at night –
fallow-fogg’d and faint?
Fainting in self-imposed hunger
you wander, buckling at knees,
And for all that, so little to show.
It’s the sound of excuses low on batteries.
The oldest, leather’d tales of one made sick
on sumptuous delights of dark.
And still, all those black, moonlit hills of your desires,
shivering wistfully in an adder’s den of want.
“Do you want to be healed?”
Such a stupid question, unless you’ve seen
all this before in light-adjusted caves
of self-pity; the forlorn battle-weary sojourners
preferring to fight without armour, eyes closed.
Closed to adulations begged for, wept over, demanded, refused.
Full steam ahead on an undersized train
sliding down carefully-crafted embankments of misfortune.
Divvy out carefully those shelter-shined coins of detail,
actual currency of a life lived on purpose.
Let your body to your soul state its intentions well –
walls you painted over, once your prison –
now, just old, flayed relics
of too many days reminding you
of too many days.
Ancient Wisdom for Modern Seekers
For bloggers who aspire to inspire
We believe in being brave.
Stuff That Needs To Be Said
Writing from the In/Between
Grace // Jesus // Life
Spiritual Direction for Integrated Living
A journey from liquid courage to sober courage
Building a community for sinners, saints, and skeptics who join God in the renewal of all things
an anamcara exploring those close encounters of the liminal kind
“The idea behind spiritual practice is to help you discover the truth about who you are, who God is, and that in fact these two are not separate realities.”
The Beautiful Due
Collaborating with the Muses to inspire, create, and illuminate
...in such kind ways...
"That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works." Psalm 26:7
Spirituality, Sustainability, Hospitality and Community