Tag: Amazing Grace

Waiting On The Super Moon

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

 

Blue Moon HMM

 

 

Waiting On A Super Moon

She came at the dark like
A mad woman
Chasing it with a frenzied pent up
Mother bear
Mother hen
Don’t mess with me
Mad at the thief
Who steals the light

Righteous indignation

Weary from her spinning round
She stopped to catch her breath
And caught a glimpse of
Heaven
For
In the end

It was there
She rested in the Truth

In reminders
Of Creation’s dazzling
Strength
Super Moons and super Hope
And raging alone in darkness
Would be
No more

The brightest Light could douse the flames
Lapping at her feet
Would drown the darkness
And the thief

The dark could never win
And she could finally sleep
Rest

Until the next time
She would come at the dark
Like a mad woman
Chasing it with a frenzied pent up …

By the Light of the Moon

 

 

The Piano

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

Piano_Keys_warm

The Piano

If white is joy and unbridled grace
Laid out in broken pieces

Waiting to be played

Ivories laying in a long reflective  line
Fragments
Where I see my own dim
And shadowed
Face
A sea of
Cracked and smoothly worn
Puzzle pieces
Waiting to be played
Mixed and written into
A harmonious melody
Unmerited
Of amazing grace

And black is pain
And cruelty

Life holds a concert
Every day
There on the stage

As I choose
Where to send my fingers
Up and down
These slippery keys
Laced with a mix of
Boldness and timidity

I muse
And whisper to myself
Self, What part I am to play?

Apprentice
Learning still
How to make it
Beautiful
While
Sounds from those who
Bang out  cruelty
Those
Notes mixed with dissonance
And pain
Choosing to wreck havoc, injure
Again, again
And still again
Repetition of an unwanted verse
I hear her weary, worn out
Wracked by years of
Fill in your blanks
With her, a sister
It is amplified
Years of it
Grant this one peace
How could she possibly bear it
Any more
He beats her with his words

I sit rigid on the backless bench
Consider how to
Write a song
Blending it, her sadness into beauty
Sounds of rich tones, flat and sharp
With chorus heavy on redemption
In each refrain

Take the cries of despair and pain
And news of cruelty
Coming through
The telephone
Loud and clear
Again
A sister beat down by
Meanness
Blends into the second verse
Sounds of disappointment from  one
Who hoped with childlike
Longing
For joy to  come merrily
She’d roll along

Every single note
Woven into redemption’s song

We wait
Sitting upright
Straight and tall
Fingers curved, rounded
Cramped
From waiting longer, just a little longer
Till
Come thou font of every blessing
Will come
And wipe the tear
But until then we need the song
Of hope
To wipe the tears

Play the keys of faith
Loud for thee and me

The notes are faint but grow louder every day
There is a hallelujah chorus
Arriving on the wind

We write a ballad
Paired  with another saint
To pen a lovely
Hope-filled song, a duet

White is joy and unbridled grace
Compose your song of waiting
Now
And make it beautiful
Somehow
Amazing Grace
How sweet the sound
Make music from this
Broken heart of mine

 

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photo credit: Wikimedia – Wikipedia -Creative Commons

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Joining Laura

A Thousand Hands Have Passed By Here

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

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A Thousand Hands Have Passed By Here

Maybe hundreds more
But
There was no one there to count

A well-worn wooden handrail
Documents for us

But she will not give up secrets
Of all the living that has come by here
The hurried ones
Tiny pink bare feet
Scampering off to bed
To dream under a mountain quilt, tucked
Under
Crisp cool sheets
As trains go up and down
The mountain tracks
Singing them to sleep

The tired ones who will wake
Before the sun and putter down
The stairs, running wrinkled fingers
Along the smooth and weary rail
Worn by love and life and time
Holding up the aged, the weak and frail

Guardian of more than
One Hundred years of living
Well-traveled
Quiet story-keeper 
Stairwell of this
Old home

Perhaps the next hand, left
Or right from generations
Coming up and down 
Traveling through this  place
Will be a hand of healing
Offering
Sacred grace

Pray blessing and forgiveness
Over those who’ll come here too

Perhaps
There will be a thousand more
Hands traveling down the rail
Bearing witness to 
Humility and redeeming love
For generations still to come

For scores and scores of lifetimes
More
May scamper up to bed
Up, then down, down then up
Living, loving,
In this family place

A thousand hands have passed by here

So
Walk quiet now
Soft and slow and reverently
So
You may hear the tales
Echo in the halls
Wisdom from sojourners
Who came by here before
Pass on stories of
Their living
Loving strong and hard
For years and years

Within these pine-board walls

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Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday

Words Replace The Boot

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

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Words Replace The Boot

I could kick myself
Literally, not figuratively, no
If I could figure out how
To put a swift quick to the rear
A boot in the hind quarters

A kick in the pants
Would remind me
When I hurt
That I have hurt
And a tangible ache
May move into action
A sedentary bum.

I have widows as neighbors
And poor in my midst
And letters to write to Peru,
To my girl.
But sin visits me
And stays awhile
Inaction is omission
I blame Eve
It is easier that way.

The last time I checked
It stings
It stung
And it stinks.

Preachers preach
And teachers teach
And poets, wax

And weave words that go places
Visiting the sick and shut-in
Takes legs and guts and heart
A body in motion.

Oh I have words, ones that rise up
And hang
Like a cartoon-ish figure
I am a  caricature of one who cares and acts
My thought bubble floats above me
Invisible to all
Seen by no one
The hazy desire to act
Stick a pin in it and pop it
I am done

Faith without works
Is settling in.

It is time for the words that hang in the air
To walk the road that leads to the widow

And mail the note that goes to Peru

And nothing is happening
While I am figuring out
How to kick myself

There is a foul odor
And it smells like guilt

Love is a verb
And a noun
And the greatest of these

Time
To love the all of these
And float the bubble of hope

Love gets off the couch
Ouch.

Words
Replace the boot
But Grace
Replaces guilt.