Tag: Grace

Vulnerability Looks Like Grace

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 11 Comments

Vulnerability

I checked the pot
Truly
Over and over again
And they weren’t ready
The nouns, the verbs, the words
They needed salt and light
Heat
And time, grace to grow
Space to separate then blend
Oh friend,
Patiently I stirred with an old wooden spoon
Swirling clockwise and counter
Checking
Re-checking
You know in the folds of your soul, when they are ready
To share
And
Release

These took longer,they required
Time, it stood still
The hallmark of the moment
Generosity of minutes moved, yet frozen
The gentle branding of the transaction
Between two
Women sharing sips of soul-filled words
Vulnerable, the two

I asked if I could spill over
About the woman with the spirit of generosity
Of heart
Of honesty and humility and second chances
And when we are our most human
Our most vulnerable
You with me and I with you
A sacred thread runs through
The space and time
We are dusted by the holy
Threaded artists we

I tell you my ache, my pain
And question deep the need to rest

You tell me of your winsome brave wild and wonderful
Dream
You know we can do better than we have
I tell you I want to write a song
You tell me that I can
And we are in a ping pong match of words
Vulnerability fuels that flame

And you re-tell
A second chance
For me, the first
A chance meeting, one on one
Eyeball to eyeball, soul to soul
We speak encouragement

And I am marked forever
By the chance
Or was it God-ordained

I hope I stirred it long enough
And let it simmer, taste and see that
He is good

You are a joy
And I,  a grateful saint

Who learned what
Generosity, sensitivity
And brave can taste like
Poured out from the lips of one kindred
Spirit, Flesh, and Bone

Vulnerability looks like grace
With a soulful artist’s heart

Doors with cut out crosses

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This poem is dedicated to Joy Thigpen at Joy Thigpen dot com who taught me much about the making of art– and rivers and margins and more at Allume 2013.

Church

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 16 Comments

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Church

A place for dry bones to shake rattle and roll in the spirit of the Lord
Among a cast of hundreds of women who were strangers
Strangers I tell you until hours before
A foretaste of heaven
Look to your right and to your left
Look with the eyes of your heart
The countenances shine like you have stepped to the other side
This is the Hyatt for goodness sake
This is a hotel, glory be
Sisterhood deep and wide like the mighty Mississippi after the rains
Came for forty days and forty nights
Shoulder to shoulder breaking bread
Singing standing, singing sitting, singing dancing
And there were tears
No shortage of the salty rivers of release
Each drop a celestial star, blinking, twinkling
A milky way of mothers and others.

A room
Small and crowded
Where you listen deep and hard and squint and furrow
Your eyes and brow
Like a net, you cast your soul to catch every single drop of good words
About art on the other side
Of the cross
You meet a woman
A sister
She is waiting in another repository of words to tell her story
And you listen
To why you breathe and make and write and why it matters
And a sister jumps up and ends the talk in prayer
Preach it sister
Preach it
Worship, in a small crowded room
Hearts seeking to make art to His glory
A gathering, communion of saints, prayer
A good word delivered
Focusing on Him
In a downtown Greenville hotel.

And we rush out
Discuss how very late we are
We are late paces from the house
We are at the door
Their dog is lying in wait for church to let out
And her bike with the artful basket
Propped up on the side of this old
Church
We slip in, slither in a pew, the sermon
It is well into the resurrection story
Of life and death
You could hear a pin drop among the sea of graying
I cast my net
Eager for words of living and dying
Shoulder to shoulder, twenty-five years
And a baby cries
And the organ plays
And we speak to the preacher on our way out
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost
As it was, it shall forever be

The dog picks up his people and they go home
Church is out.
And we breathe deep the glory from our time
In church.

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Joining Laura at Laura Boggess dot com

Maple Syrup On Sunday

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

Maple Syrup On Sunday

Quiet lulls like soul food, soulful
Margins widen
Again
After the long lonesome loud
Period.
Sometimes you have to call it like it is
Or was
My soul was drowning in noise
Of churning, change
Learning, living, out loud
Speeding Road Runner and Wylie-like
Braking at the last minute
At  the edges of the cliffs
And not the white ones of Dover
Pastoral and pure
More like
The ragged jagged ones
Barrel rolling over the
Falls
Nearly, but bailing out right before rolling over the
Niagara white foamy frothing falls with fierce
Break-neck speed
Like the Tasmanian Devil swirling twirling
I don’t buy that Devil in the Details
Stuff, not one bit
But in the racing like
Nascar through life
Yep
He may crouching tiger
Lay there ready to pounce

But mercifully
Peace seeps in, creeps in
Like maple syrup drips out of a tapped tree
Blanketing a stack of white and fluffy
Flap jacks with sugary sweet
Jesus peace like a river
Re-attends

And life is wondriful
A hybrid blend of glorious wonderful
Again

When Oliver wrote those words about joy and crumbs
I get it, really get it
And if joy were a condiment
It should be maple syrup on Sunday
Poured out slow and steady
So thick and sticky
You couldn’t wash it off if you tried
It wants to linger in the air
On fingers
Counters
Somehow leaving traces of itself everywhere
Creating stagnant pools
In cracks and crevices
Of joy
Sweet like maple syrup on a slow motion morning
Quiet lulls like soul food, soulful
Margins widen
Again

And poetry
Is born again.
pink beach sadie

Entanglement – Noticing Jealousy

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

wpid-IMG_20130830_200328.jpgToday is Day 18

31 days button 500x500

Empty beach shadow profileEntanglement

It comes in waves. But mostly it remains at sea.
Mirrors and mimics the tides.
Mercifully stays off shore for long and healthy seasons.
Recedes.
Replacing white-capped waves with tranquil seas.
And then the storms come
Churning up the waters,  turbulence sucks and spits and spins
Water spouts pop up in the darkest of spaces
Blow backwash in the pristine open air
Monstrous waves drown out joy
Bury hope beneath the weight of the abyss
And the wailing begins, again
Doubt is dumped like heavy silt
From the bottom, ocean’s floor
Wind and waves roar
Splash mockingly at me
Pieces of the soul, taken by the raging sea
Deposits broken bounty on the rock
Sun burned now they shatter
Cracked and brittle, bleached out
Under the blazing sun’s
Hallowed blinding rays
Unrelenting heat
Fire
Of the belly, from the pit
Killing off
All that  once was good
Replacing it with death

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

It comes in waves
And when it does it drowns
Out perspective
Washes away
The gifts
Dilutes the passion and the art
Water logs the spirit
Dampens the soul
Like wrinkled flesh
The blessings
Now seem water logged
And repetitions of the sinful same
Bury treasures
The sea soaked soul
Her watery grave
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It comes in waves.
A gentle ebb, a gentle flow.
She scurries shorebird like
Running from the watery fingers of the waves
Seeks shelter from entanglement in
Nets of grasses
Jelly fish, the stinging nettles
Out to harm and weigh her down.

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

And so it will be
Like the sea
Forever prsent, as the tides
An ebb
A flow
An in
An out
She seeks the shelter more, not less
A place of safety in the arms
Of  Creator of The Sea
And claims her prize
She runs from pride
In calm sweet waters
Now
And dives deep boldly into
Pools of  calm sweet grace
A ring of mercy safely round her neck
The  Saver of Her Soul
Floating now, in peace, atop
Wave on wave of His amazing grace.

Day one shadow

Ready Set Go Notice

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