The Blackbird, Checking Through The Pane

red winged blackbird

                                                                                                   (photo credit:wikipedia/wikicommons)

If there were a list of rules for who can visit,
A book of names to let some enter into
Communion on the ledge

By virtue of his title
He’d be turned away.

But when it’s quiet
And thought has pulled me deep,
Where worry debates with faith and reason
Yanking tiresome
Pulling piece by ragged piece,
In the dusty corners where the deep grooved tracks from a  childhood
Play.
He comes alone, staring deep within my soul
Feathers meet a feeble friend.
I’ve begun to wait for him.

He sings a shrill of flats or is it sharps.
Tilts his head
I don’t know which, or what he says.
Peers through glass at me then folds a caring nod
As if the feathered feeder friend

Sings his song for me.
Alone.
There is no space for other songbirds when he comes.
His birdsong gurgles, sucks up all the space and time
With a melody of winsome caring,
checking through the pane.

Ebony and streaks of red ask
“Have you found at last your peace on matters on your mind.”

We Are Human, Siri

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We Are Human, Siri

Last night Siri didn’t want to talk about God or Jesus
And my daughter asked her too about heaven and the cross
She didn’t know about Boston or pain
Or the burning desire to run and scream
Or run and hide, or just run ragged to the end of an outstretched
mirage of a horizon, legs burning lactate build up, gripping pain
So we let her off the hook and laughed
But we are still hanging by a thread
She told Siri to call her princess and to wake her up at 6:40
That’s nice
She can refer all those questions to a human and she did
She has a nice new Lilly Pulitzer case to hide in
But  we are cradled in the arms of the most High while
We ache about shattered limbs
And life in a chair, but it is still life
What were we thinking
A little mother daughter chat with an android voice
When the Creator of the Universe was available and is
We are human and so there is grace

I want to run and scream like a wild one and fling and flail
Arms swinging like helicopter blades
Expending crazy mad energy
I am human and I hurt
And I am in the company of millions
But we are covered by The Creator
Each deliriously painful moment of grief and loss heard
Siri can defer the questions to a human
I, thankfully can take all of mine to Him.
Bent, weak, bowed and shaken.
Humanity runs to the cross

under  a covering of love.

Siri, if you only knew such love

But the last word is always hope and His
And fear won’t strangle bold and brave
And bombs can’t rob our souls
Human kindness runs to aid
Man helps man and God loves man
Broken, fragile, wounded man
And hearts are broken but still beat
Blood runs hard and fast but so does
Compassion at the scene and in the world

Siri, if you only knew

The love of God most High

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With Jennifer today for #tellhisstory and with Emily and my team at Imperfect Prose on Thursdays

Adagio: Vernal Light

blades of grass adagio projectTwo women, two writers, one love of poetry, thus The Adagio Project was born. A writer spends  time penning her words alone, in a cafe, in a writing cottage, or in the middle of living. Right in the middle of where she  lives out her days. A kitchen table,  a chair by a window are  more than enough for most.

But Holly Grantham of A Lifetime of Days and I have paired our love for words, especially poetic ones. Partnered, to weave threads of thought together. We have never met, nor even spoken to one another. Our words are our tether, one to the other poet. From across over one thousand miles we create poems for Adagio: A Poetry Project.

Seeking a visual prompt to launch this part of the project, we have graciously received and incorporated  the visual art of photographer Kelly Sauer. Kelly’s love and use of light were significant  inspiration points for our offering here. She captures beauty, light and life in an exceptionally lovely way. And she shares our love for blogging on her own, La Joie, La Vie.

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Vernal Light

Hope hangs her head, long and low
Prays for light to pierce the dark
days
buried in the blur of time, gathers
pearls, drops of faith cling
to ray on ray of radiant
Hope, bows to birth
love has found her way

Vernal light glimmers golden on
pearled edges
as days lengthen and clocks spin
and the wisps of honey covered
minutes
blow airy and light
billowing curtains and hearts
alike

We cannot see frail and broken
made of bone and flesh
we  still hold to doubt and fear
but tender is the soul infused with hope
for it
holds new mercy rising on the orange blaze, promises
to take us with her
as she dreams

There are shadows, still
but brighter is that which
slants across her face
than that which seeks to rule the world
When there are only dark days
piled one upon the other

That is the promise of the
bloom
an emerging efforescence
that causes hands to lift
and eyes to shine
while their glint burns bright
upon the field

Look for signs of tender hope
when wrinkled lines curl gentle on the edge
of lip and eye, blue no more
the bird has made her
nest of
new
fragile eggs
laid in trust
hold gentle as you breathe out dread
and winter’s gloom is carried off
light breaks open
claiming hearts and souls again

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Holly and I are grateful too for Lisa Leonard at Lisa Leonard Designs whose jewelry is shown here on the model’s neckline.  The photograph used in Vernal Light was  selected  from  a collaboration between Lisa Leonard and Kelly Sauer. Again, thank you Kelly for generously allowing us to partner with you. You can find more of Kelly’s work  at Kelly Sauer dot com.  And you can follow her blog and her art through words at La Joie, La Vie.

If you are interested in reading all of the poems in the collective, click here