Portraiture: Seasons

 

poem-a-day-dare-tweetspeakPortraiture: Seasons

Portrait of a poet
In charcoal unframed, Spring brought
Oils in tangerine

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Palette of flesh tones
Tan as brown sugar, sweet one
Summer warms our skin

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Orange flame burns down
Day, a torch lit long steals night
Fireflies bear light

Change


Change

She longed to change
Things
The ones with a beat
Red, pulsing, pumping the blood
To crack open the norm
Celebrate poetry with prose
Run in the opposite direction
Refuse to settle
Zig while they zag
Rise up and whisper above the screams
Press mute on the debate
Call for peace while there was war
Light a fire on the first day of Spring
Speak as silence suffocates the voiceless
In the spinning
Untangle the web
Raise the white flag
Cry for mercy
Shed tears for grace
Unfurl the banner of enough is enough
Tattoo love on her wrist to remind her of
Wood and nails
Set sail
For calm and deep in
Oceans of counterclockwise in a sea of clockwise
And dream of a world
In which Change would come

And Change remained
Died and rose again
And Change redeemed
Sweet dreams, lovers of Change
Easter is near
All will soon shout
Alleluia’s
Again

The Zigzag Ways of God’s Blessing – A Guest Post From Anita Mathias

Some days the writing and blogging world seems so very small. Today is such a day. I am delighted to have Anita Mathias guest posting at my writing home today. Anita lives in Oxford, England and blogs at Dreaming Beneath the Spires. Our paths have crossed in the past couple of years by way of  blogging communities we are connected to. Anita has just returned from a mission trip to Cambodia. (The details of which I look forward to hearing soon.)You can find her on Twitter @anitamathias1.

Anita is the author of Wandering Between Two Worlds (Benediction Classics, 2007). She has won a writing fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, and her writing has appeared in The Washington Post, The London Magazine, Commonweal, America, The Christian Century, and The Best Spiritual Writing anthologies.

Anita lives in Oxford with her husband and daughters. You may also find her on Facebook at Dreaming Beneath the Spires.

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Welcome Anita, who writes of hope, trust, faith and encouragement. It is a pleasure to have her gifts and her heart here today. And her words penetrate my soul today with  especially well-timed
words.

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Close Up Cross Labyrinth

The Zigzag Ways of God’s Blessing


Joseph had a rarefied spiritual gift: God spoke to him through his dreams, and he could interpret the dreams of others.

In the night, which belongs to the Lord, he sees his sheaf stand upright while his brother’s sheaves bow to it. He sees the sun and moon and eleven stars bow to him.

He understands that he is destined for eminence.

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And what should the career path of one destined for eminence look like? 

Joseph is thrown into a cistern, sold into slavery. He faces humiliation and obscurity.

Was his dream delusory? Had God abandoned him?

Nope.

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God was with Joseph,” (Gen 39:2) we are told, “and he prospered.” “The Lord was with him and gave him success in everything he did.”

The blessing on Joseph spreads outwards. “The Lord Blessed the household of the Egyptian because of Joseph. The blessing of the Lord was on everything Potiphar had, both in the house and in the field.”

And so the career of Joseph progressed from strength to strength

Nope.

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He had proved his resilience. He had proved his integrity.

He now had to be moved upwards from a comfortable small position to a position of greater influence.

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Dick Woodward pastor of the church I attended in Williamsburg, Virginia, said that the way God moves you on is a kick from behind and a pull from in front. ( And I think it’s best to stay put where you are, whether at church or work or city or neighbourhood until you sense the kick and pull.)

Potiphar’s wife provided the kick with her false accusations.

And ironically, Joseph was kicked upstairs into the social circle of those who personally waited on Pharaoh.

If anyone had the right to indulge in self-pity, it was Joseph in the dungeon, cast there for his righteous choice.

But dungeon was his means of elevation, the pull upwards.

While Joseph was there in the prison, the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favour in the eyes of the prison warden. So the warden put Joseph in charge of all those held in the prison and he was made responsible for all that was done there. The Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did. (Gen 39: 21-23).

He interprets dreams in prison, but with slight cockiness. Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams. (Gen. 40:8)

He asks the cupbearer to remember him, but with self-pity. For I was forcibly carried off from the land of the Hebrews and even here I have done nothing to deserve being put in a dungeon.

He has yet to become the steady luminous man whose eyes are on the Lord, who sees everything in life as coming to him mediated through the Lord’s hands, because the Lord permitted it; who knows that the Lord could make him fruitful in the land of his suffering (Gen. 41:52), and turn what his enemies meant for evil into good (Gen. 50:20).

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Another two years alone in the company of the Lord in the dungeons, and he will approach the interpretation of dreams with humility.
Pharaoh: ” I have heard it said of you that when you hear a dream you can interpret it.”
“I cannot do it,” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.” (Gen. 41)
His eyes now fixed on God, Joseph is able not only to use his administrative gifts wisely, but also able, remarkably, to forgive his brothers–thus helping to save many lives.

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I would have expected the life of someone chose, blessed and anointed by God to be marked by happiness, success, prosperity and protection.

And Joseph’s life was ultimately marked by all of these things.

But not all the time.

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His life teaches us:

Nothing can stop you doing the work which God has called you to do.

God may have a beautiful plan for your life, but other people may throw you into a well and sell you into slavery.

You will rise.

You may do your job brilliantly and be slandered and thrown into prison.

You will rise.

You may comfort and help people with your words, but in their season of power they may forget you until it’s convenient for them.

But still you will rise.

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When will you rise?

In God’s time.

When you let go of bitterness, perhaps. When you forgive. When you realize that all things come from God, your gifts, your health, your wealth, your freedom, your intellect, your very life.

Then you will indeed have grown into your destiny. You will have become worthy of it.

You will have become one who can “save many lives,” (Gen 50:20).

Here – A Guest Post, A Poem, Holly A. Grantham

 

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I am honored to have my poet friend Holly Grantham guest posting here today. She and I have been friends through poetry, writing and blogging and have even partnered together on a poetry series entitled Adagio: A Poetry Project. Holly and I played with words on the page from miles upon miles apart, penning three poems. (The offerings in this series may be found at the end of Holly’s guest post). While the project is on a pause of sorts, Holly’s words continue to bring me joy. She is an artist and crafts beautiful poetic prose and poetry.

In her poem entitled Here, Holly’s words sing of her unique perspective on this life. And yet we hear, feel and even crawl into the space Holly inhabits. Holly invites. She delights. And her art is extraordinarily crafted.

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Here

I’m cooking dinner and
only because the days are getting longer
does the light still filter in
through the clouded window that
needs replacing
The pane is nearly opaque
but not muddled enough
to keep my eye from catching
the fluttering of a bird at the feeder
repositioning himself
to find more seed

While I cut broccoli
the baby sits on the counter
flapping his arms
like the bird outside
screeching with glee
drool dripping like honey
from his mouth
the bud of a tooth peeking
out from swollen gums

I set down the knife
and sip my wine in the pause
while through the tilted glass I can see
the edges of the room stained
crimson and swirling
catching light
glowing

Floating atop the life noise
clattering within these walls
a quiet song sways with being here
now
and I freeze
because something down deep
is stirred and righted
and in a twinkling the words of
Buechner that I read earlier today are
tangible and throbbing
framing the moment
as miracle

I’m remembering now
how every morning
glory pools in my lap while I’m
nursing my babe
legs crossed and warm
eyes still drowsy with sleep
and I’m afraid I miss it most days
in the wanting something more

I look back out the window and
the light has dimmed
but is tinged with orange now
the bird has gone but
the baby shouts a loud hallelujah
and I turn to him
his eyes flickering candles
Yes
I am here
now

 

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Holly pens beauty at her writing home A Lifetime of Days . Follow her on twitter @HollyAGrantham .

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Adagio: A Poetry Project is currently comprised of three offerings. The first, entitled Writing Across The Distance may be found here, the second entitled Black Night Of Hope may be read here and the third Les Mains