Poetry, Paradox & Perspective
I go out and search
Each tree and twig
In spring months
When the wind has calmed
And the sun has confined
The snow to the shadows.
I find both life and death:
Branches and bushes and whole trees
That did not survive the winter,
But mostly new little spikes of green.
My shears and shovel
Clear out what couldn’t stay
While my heart clings
To the anticipation
Of growth.
My soul feels the sorting too—
Shedding the past,
Stretching toward the light.
If we could comprehend
All the properties of light
Inside and out,
I believe we could
Disappear into it
And reappear wherever we please
And traipse through the universe
To watch the miracle of birth
In rainbow-painted nebulae
With relaxed and reverent stillness,
Like a cat in the sun,
As we soak in the warmth
Of the greatest resource of all.
Let go, let go
Of the dried-up past identity
That’s no longer yours.
Soon enough there will be
New blossoms in sweet colors
That will showcase
The vibrancy of who you are,
But just now, be okay
With this bare, exposed reality.
So much looks dead and gone,
Even though it’s only waiting
In patient stillness.
Sometimes leaving is brave,
Recognizing that the thing
You thought you loved is
Incongruous with your heart
And that your buried sadness
Can be over.
It’s courageous and scary and freeing and vulnerable and empowering and overwhelming and peaceful and devastating and beautiful—
That moment of claiming
Your own soul
And naming your own god.
Thank you, God of Transformation,
God of Hope, God of Community,
God of Open Doors,
For leading out of ill-fit places
Into the widest vistas.
He is free to go where he pleases
But somehow pleases to be with us.
We like that about him.
When he stares, I wonder what he values
And where our love for him ranks.
Sister, come have strawberry tea
While the howl of the wind
Threatens to steal our flames.
Light the candles, shed the fears,
Come fill your cup and mine.
If, as George Bernard Shaw
wrote, “all great truths
begin as blasphemies,”
then shall I un-name my god
quietly or with the loudest hallelujah?
I never knew You needed un-naming
until I began to see that
no true god could be contained
in any label, no matter
how extravagant or tender.
Father, Mother, Almighty Creator,
even The Great I Am
are all insufficient.
I will have to keep un-naming You
all of my days.
Motherhood
Drags you through the muck
Of diapers, guilt, vomit and insanity
With fewer breaks and paid holidays
Than the worst union would consent to
And yet
It tricks you into loyalty
With the occasional deception
Of replacing monstrous children
With cherub-faced sweeties
Whose cheeks you can’t kiss enough,
So you agree to stay on
A bit longer.
This is the only plausible explanation
For why some days
I love them extra much.
I
like
to think
you
enjoyed
your time
here with us
for
the holidays
now
over
Wonder who you are becoming.
Voice the knowing of your inner
Guide. Build piece by tiny piece
On the consciousness you find.
Marvel with childlike awe at fate-
Ful twists. See godlike good in all.
Fight with wise & fearful courage.
Expand your mind, your heart. In
This way you become a wonder,
Woman—a courageous, godlike
Marvel; a wise & awesome voice.
