Category: Uncategorized

Waiting

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

wpid-2013-04-10-15-36-36-1High up on my horse, a turquoise bike
This day’s form of traveling
A trio of dogs grinds me to a stop
Gathers for awhile
Sniffing wet black noses
Sparking a human interchange
Of neighbors who live quietly
With all their secrets
Needing to be released and shared
This one   grips and grinds, my heart’s beats
Like rusty bike chain needing oil
Now days have passed, the rain has come
And I am still marinating in her words.
I shall ride my bike again.
Go looking for more stories
The  kind that tell of life’s delays.
And take myself on hunts to gather
Words of what comes after waiting.

Sometimes stories come to you
Wet with grief and ripe with pain
Ones that bear no smile of waiting
Forty years to own your boxer dog
The one you rescued from the pound.

Sometimes the stories come to you
Drenched in pain and open wounds
Of marriages that break apart
Of babies that were due to come but haven’t yet
Of children who will not wear a cap and gown
The ones of jobs that slip away
The ones of lives that rip and shred, financial ruin
Cancer cripples men
Faith rumbles like the thunderous spring storm sky
Whispering why while pressing onward

Houses meant to close but don’t
Moves and jobs and men and deals
Churches, reconciliation, children
Time stands still for those who wait
But there are stories of redemption
They tell of purpose in the pauses
I cannot hear them loud enough.

And I
Hunched and hovering
I wait with baited breath unsteady
Will my boxer come to me
Dodging all the tired and warn out
Cliched comments for the weary
For the lonely, sad and hurting
How strange her wait was held to forty
Now I want to know her more
For there are holy others called to waiting
In the desert
Called to hold
On for longer

Why
Oh why
Can’t I

With
Sacred
Grace
Hold
Hope
For
Human
Suffering
I
Feel
I
Know
Too
Much
I
Pray
I
Know
too

much

Joining Laura for Playdates at The Wellspring

Perhaps

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

u434w1309r_100-1

Perhaps it is the jasmine
The lightening flash of long lean rabbit in the garden where the labyrinth winds for prayer
Or maybe it’s the baring of our flesh
Release of layers, fleece and sweater, flannels,
Covering for a dark and weary soul.

Perhaps it is the dip of toes and body in the sea
Or maybe it’s the sharp knife blade
Cutting deep into the red of berries ripe and ready
Sweet dripping over beds of salad greens.

Perhaps it is your skin turned tan, brown as a berry, momma used to say,
Touched by the sun of  longer days
Or maybe it’s just the way we breathe, finally and fully,
Filling lungs full of just mowed grass, sweet green air.

And perhaps it’s on the way out,
When really she just arrived.
Teasing us with what is fragile
Precious worth a long deep sip, of what she carries  in on beams of moon.

I pick the purple hydranga, her mix of lavenders and greens,
Place it in the window where the light illuminates her glory.
And think

Perhaps this Spring will be my favorite one of all, the best of fifty three.

And secrets are for keeping, but some
Should also be shared.

There was something in this one
That  wrapped me in her fingers, held me tight and close
Before the sweet release toward Summer
Captured all of my senses, held them gently hostage
Then, kissed me softly on my cheek before the sad goodbye.

The hand of Spring has held me.

Perhaps, that is all I know.

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Joining Tweetspeak Poetry for Wordcandy. Photo Credit: Tina Howard

And Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday

Swallowed Up In Time

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

wpid-IMG_20130430_184203.jpgBuried in the moments like pilings in the pluff-mudd, anchored in the sea, the weight they hold, they bear as
I am
And yet
Carried out in waves of tears, these child years washed me over too fast so fast I fear
I am
Marking, filing, data while I watch these scenes played out of children coming in and growing ones go out
We are
Safe in piles of snowy down and laughing on my bed at something, nothing
They are
Traveling moving on through portals of a life and years are catching up to me, beginnings tagged as endings
I am fighting against
Time
Drowning in an ocean of bittersweet
I weep
A mix of tears
More joy than any other, mingled in the salty mix.

Divine Assignment

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

wpid-2013-05-09-14.56.09.jpg

I want to wander upon wonder
Brush up against beauty
Pick up pieces of particular perfection
Breathe in the moments too precious to pass by

I want to gather up shimmering rays from the sky
Pack my pockets with intangible gifts
Slow to the beat of the earth’s natural rhythm
Tell you I love you a million times million

I want to praise with my life
Sing with my lips, songs and old hymns
Again and again till my lungs empty flat out
Soak in the broken, but beautiful before me

I want to be blinded by glistening  small ordinary
See past the obvious to what lies beyond
Peel back the layers of meaning and winsome
Press past the concrete and into the waiting

I want to hope with the hurting and cry with the sad ones
Reach out to souls sinking in pain and despair
Wipe the tears creeping down cheeks, chins and noses
Of wrinkled and weary worn out ones

I want to love the unloveable empty and lonely
Point out the grace and the mercy right here
Not miss a chance to say something small
That causes connection between me and you.

I want to answer a calling, divine, sacred, holy
Make art that speaks to the hidden and seen
Gather up fragments of splintered and broken
Love and write with a faith that grows daily.

Sink into moments divine, yet all mine
Marked and apportioned for a time such as this
Soaked in the simple, drenched in holy bliss
A divine assignment is wrapped round this day.

+++++++++++++++++

(Inspiration for today’s post drawn from the words of Elora Nicole who is teaching me a few things about words.)

Joining Jennifer for #tellhisstory