Plum Tuckered Out

sunset over jeremy creek

Plum Tuckered Out

He is stuck there now.
The rut provides peace.
The same draws lines of safety in an unsafe world.
The control gives comfort where comfort looks for refuge.

The sliced plum and arugula salad, night after night.
All the senses are satisfied, satiated. 
Routine of majestic fruit on bitter greens and
We call it a night.

And the purple moutains majesty
In the west and the setting sun on the back
Of an indigo sky with the windswept hues of purple
Soothe the gut punch life gives, the bruising from a day in a life.

She is stuck there now.
The rut provides  peace.
The same draws lines of safety in an unsafe world.
The control gives comfort where comfort looks for refuge.

And the song hems in a world with a simple line of love.
They hear it, play it over and over, like stuck vinyl record
Amazing grace how sweet
Every funeral, every church, every man.
Cannot get enough, give enough amazing grace, grape juice, wine,
The crushed grapes become liquid, life-giving, the bread, the body, the transaction at the rail.
And grace. The hole is deep and wide and needs filling, like the dying need a blood transfusion, purple nectar sustains the living
With grace. 

Cannot get enough of amazing grace how sweet the sound
It saves us in its repetition of the truth.
Draws us in with the familiar strains.
No need for reaching for the hymnal we all know it by
Heart, even those with bruises, no especially those with the bruises.
We all have bruises. We all fall short, we all fall down.

That grace covers a multitude of sin
No, love does that
And if we count the number of times we’ve sung Amazing Grace.

We all fall short
So we sing it till we sing it blind and weak
And till we’re buried beneath the wisteria vines in the old cemetery down the road.
And we’re all plum tuckered out.
But grace never is.

They are stuck there now.
The rut provides peace.
The same draws lines of safety in an unsafe world.
The control gives  comfort where comfort gives refuge.

And they all, each one, seek sips of grace from the cup
Given by the royal Priest who gently heals the battered and bruised.
And wears humbly his royal garment of Healing and Comfort.
And we’re all just plum tuckered out,

in need of
grace.

bee in glove with purples

I am joining Tweetspeak Poetry for this month’s poetry prompt — purple, plum and indigo. So I am shading my words in these hues. And joining Laura for her Playdates at The Wellspring. One of my favorite places in the blogosphere.

4 thoughts on “Plum Tuckered Out

  1. Oh, this rings with the sad, Elizabeth. I don’t want to be stuck there–in that rut, in that comfort zone until food tastes like sawdust and nothing is seen new. This feels like a call to action to me. A beautiful call to action.

    1. Laura, this grew out of struggles in my world– struggles with crippling OCD in people I love. And how grace is a big piece of the healing process. Thank you seeing something beautiful. Where there’s honesty and truth, healing can take root and grow. Thank you friend for the ears of your heart.

  2. I’m just following my friend Laura around the blogosphere today, and today she led me to your place. And I need to be here today. I’m grieving with some friends who feel so very helpless in the face of their child’s battle with OCD. And my own dear boy who struggles with his own stuff awoke Friday singing “Amazing Grace.” Your plum, purple, and indigo words reminded me that God is present in the weariness and pointed me back toward hope. Bless you.

    1. Oh Nancy, your visit here makes me tremble. He is Comforter, Healer and Physician and there is Hope, buckets and boatloads and oceans of it. I dealt with debilitating OCD earlier in my days of this life. I know it too. I know the healing and the hope. Press forward knowing Truth. It is bondage and we know who is the author of bondage. Loving and embracing you today, friend. Praying now for your own boy and his struggles.

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