Don’t Stop Me If You’ve Heard This Before

Don’t Stop Me If You’ve Heard This Before

the writer of Ecclesiastes knew
I  am learning too
there is nothing new under the sun
a million graduates graced the stage
diplomas and dreams clenched in fists of tan hands
a million mothers have sat with pride
remembering everything that ever was
nothing is not remembered, nothing is allowed forgetting
you may say I have heard this before
this retelling, it’s too familiar to wake me up, make me come alive
everything about this moment
the other ones too
though told before
burst forth with new birth
and old is new, anew
don’t stop me if you’ve heard this before
because I will not stop talking
a million mothers may sit with pride
but there is only one me
and there is only one us
repetition is the echo, the bold, the exclamation point
everything bears repeating
the chorus and refrain sing me home

 

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Poetic Revisions Of A Familiar Verse

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Poetic Revisions Of A Familiar Verse

Forgive me
It is perfect as it is
But in this fallen, sinful world
And at the heart of this fallen, sinful girl
And at this broken, busted moment in a
Broken busted world
As
We cry out for a collective
Mercy
And lament
While we suddenly identify more and more
With poor old Job
And snark was never my thing
Really but
Sometimes lamenting
Can take you down that path

There is a season for sadness
Weeping and wailing
Wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth

Burying one’s head in the sand
Has its season too

There is a season for turning from the news
It is all so terribly sad
And one for mowing through
Kleenex by the fistful
And burying one’s head in the pile of pillows
While hiding in four hundred thread count sheets
Poster child for First World Problems
At first glance

Oh but and and and however there is also
A time for new birth and  hope
A time for hummingbirds to dance
And songbirds to sing 
And old gardeners to get out
And scratch in the dirt
Lingering in the sunshine while there is still
A sun to shine

There is a time to sit and breathe and count
The mushrooms sprouting wildly on the hill

A time to notice dark green moss
Reaching out to hold your hand
Their tiny fingers seem to reach and wave
And call you to slow down

There is a time to hold on to what is past
And a time for sweet release 
In love
To let it go, loosely

There is a time to say Im sorry and a time
To say
I meant to say
I am really really sorry
Forgive me for my pride

There is a time to say you silly goose
A time to laugh and play
To sit with piles of children’s book
With a child  at heart
Two women who have long turned grey
Slowly savoring each page

There is a time to scatter grace and a time
To count your gifts

There is a time to grieve and say
Life seems so very fragile
Especially today
Oh most especially today

There is a time to call a friend
And talk for hours upon hours on end

To bite your tongue, to hold that thought
To let it go, to take a bite of every piece of
Spirit fruit, especially long-suffering

There is a time to read old words
Savor them once again
To pull out pictures of the family
And tell the old familiar stories
Re-visit your childhood, yet again

To trust and hope, to extend grace
That’s been said before
A time to dance and to rejoice
To whirl and twirl, make sure your music’s
Turned up very very loud

There is always time for poetry
For poets to play with words
To make up random lines
And there’s always time for prose

There’s time for resignation and a time to
Begin anew
A time for patience and a time for even more patience
And a time for ….
Well you see where I am going with the patience thing
I’m preaching to myself
Not at you

There is a time for humor
For belly laughter and tears
To live as a child again
To look past life’s pain
And old worries, anxieties and fear

Rejoice with me in what is good and holy
Celebrate the beauty risen from the ash

And in the end
Settle in each season
Not wishing it to pass.

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Joining Jennifer Dukes Lee

 

Joining Laura for Playdates