the stones know something we do not

Palm Sunday. The day God said no to empire.

Rob's Lit-Bits


the stones know something we do not

their tears now stain a palm-laden street

and cries reserved for a different day

burst out unsettled unstoppable unreserved

for today only the stones understand

who rides upon them

Image found here

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National Poetry Month – April 11, 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

The sound of your laugh.

Happy birthday, babe.

Rob's Lit-Bits

I first posted this a few years ago. The reason I did so then is the same I do so now, to celebrate my wife’s birthday. In the digital age, discovering a person’s age is as easy as a cursor, a mouse, and a nosy desire to know something. But, in the interest of propriety, I say simply, “Happy _____ birthday, babe!”

Like thunder in rain-Rae's birthday16.jpgBabe, you still brighten the road before me…

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