Remind Me Again: A Lenten Poem

March 5, 2014March 6, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 5 Comments

Remind Me Again

Remind me once again
That facades hide reality
Deep behind a trompe l’oeil truth

That love melts frozen tundras
Of a winter weary soul
Taken to her bed, tired of it all

That invisible things mark,
Change and temper, unseen
Is Holy, Spirit moves through even now

That firm mattresses, hard wood and marble
Audi’s and big screens, gyms and gems
Lie about what they can do for man

Remind me, again that forgiveness heals
Like salt water on the back of a ruby red throat
What it is to be meek, humble and mild

Bathe me in a warm bath of humility
Wash me clean from pride and ego

Because truth be told
I am prone to wander, prone to forget
To stray to a place where pastures look green
But in fact are astro-turf
Wolves lie in wait for the lamb that is lost
Searching for food when plenty grows tall
Hiding the gifts
Show me eternal, again and again
And hide from my eyes the temporal,
Fleeting, the things that will die and lead
Me to the death of my soul

Because truth be told
I am prone to follow the mirage, the shiny, the glittery
Things of the world
On the desert road that leads to nowhere
And ends in the dark

And faith is a compass
With one true north

I was blind but now I see
You focus my eyes on the eye chart
The Big E was all I saw
Now the smallest line is in my
Plain view

You oh Lord, my strength and Redeemer
Turn down the volume of a noisy world
Let me sing the broken Hallelujah’s of my heart-song
Off key and shaky

And press pause and off and down
On the sounds
Of Diamonds Are Forever
And the false promises
Of the Cadillac commercials, face-lift,
Cruise ship ads

Give me eyes to see
I am happy to remain with You, and
Ash Wednesday is not a hump day
And help me to remember

Oh Lord, I am prone to forget
Place my eyes back to heaven
And away from the green line
That leads to my retirement

Oh Lord remind me again
To ignore the likes, shares and follows
And to place my trust in You
Alone
Are Worthy

Remind me again
I give you myself
This Lent
Take me to the desert
And whisper sweet words of remembering
I am weary and I am not alone
Amen

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Joining Lyli, Emily and Jennifer

Airing Out The Soul

March 29, 2013March 29, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Airing Out The Soul

The first warm breeze
It thaws the crusty lingering on
The hangers on of a deep winter of
A soul
Ice cold frozen tundra patches, folded over, held over,
Hidden in their fear and trembling
All the working parts and pieces
Leaves them high and dry, ice cold
In desperate need of a team of doctors
Remove the dead, breathe new life
Send them out regenerated, heavy with hope
Surgically implanted
Cleaning crews called in to raise the broom
Do some heaving lifting
Break down the corner cobb webs
Lower the boom
Hang those blooming hanging pots
Make it look like Spring, feign a vain attempt
Extract every dust bunny, grab them by the tail
Send them packing
The temple needs the tables turned over
And over again

Re-arrange the furniture
And redecorate the soul

Start by cracking a window

Air out the smell of death

Grab a rag which smells of Pledge

And promise

Throw open the portals to the merciful new

And breathe a breath of birth

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Joining the team at Tweetspeak Poetry today with a Billy Collins prompt. We are spreading some wordcandy sweetness around this Eastertime. Visit wordcandy.me and dip into their box of goodies. You will fill your sweet meeter to the rim with all the offerings. The newest are the freshest for spring.

Bend, Bow, and Bare “Letters From The Village” – Day 3

February 17, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Day Three in the series “Letters From The Village” in which I pen a poem of praise, writing as if in letter form to the bending bowing limbed beauties. The wood from which the cross was cut and hewn.

Bend, Bow and Bare

You teach us well the lessons
How to bend and bow
To stand and lift, turn toward the sacred
Stretched skyward in tall praise.

You show us well the lessons
Of how to bare a soul, strip down to simple naked frame
Stand stark, vulnerable,
No covering to hide the shame or blight

You live well this life of shedding, pruning back
Of cutting back dead wood, this vital piece, the
Part that leads to vibrant verdant growing, new life
I watch you walk through seasons dignified, majestic, stark to full

Simple beauty,

I stare, eyes fixed in silent solemn awe,

I gaze on your reverential stance displayed in vertical repose

Dear Ones who show us how to bend and sway rooted deep in soil of life
You lift up strong, your limbs in praise
And bear your radiant fruit in due time
You who holy held the son of God on wood hewn cross He bled

the sins of all were carried on His back while nailed, obedient, to you.

The pain, the nails

The perfect sacrifice.

And so we bow

and bend lower, lower still

lower day by day inside the shadow that you cast for us, recall His holy sacrifice

The bark, stump, root, limb, leaf, bud and branch

Metaphor for us,

We the people of the cross.

We bend, we bow

We break, we bare,

We look to wooden ways, the forest and the trees.

amen ,no alleluia’s at this time, stark worship on these days

Remembering

The stump, the root, the cross, a final sacrifice received

Bent humbly, praising God

You teach well these lessons

Of both the forest and the trees.

Love, Lent, And Letters From The Village (Day One)

February 15, 2013February 15, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 11 Comments

After an unplanned sabbatical from writing, I am beginning anew today with a series dovetailing the Lenten season. I hope you will walk with me through these days leading up to Easter as I write in the form of letters. Both poetry and prose. But each day a letter expressing prayers, deep searching, mediations of the heart, wonderings, wanderings and an exploration of grace. Grace in the everyday.

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I have become increasingly drawn to the beauty of the art of letter writing. Its intimacy, its romantic vehicle for reaching the soul of another calls me to seek and know more. The beauty found in writing tender thoughts from one to another intrigues me. And so I want to explore the art form here in a series entitled “Letters From The Village.” Happily, I am spending some time in a small shrimping village. This is a place I have known and loved for a long season of my life. Hidden here are memories of marriage, raising three children and celebration upon celebration with friends. Tucked away. Folded in. Wrapped in the salty soil of this place. And so there is deep meaning and significance in beginning these letters to you from “the village.” That you will open and read, break the wax seal on each is gift. The first is penned on Valentines Day and is being written from the heart of this place.

It is my hope and prayer that the art of grace will set the tone as we walk through the holy days of Lent, preparing for Easter and the sacred days waiting for celebration in Holy Week.

There is a thinness, sparseness woven in these days. A dignified seriousness to the pulse and cadence of these moments. The beat is sacred. The breathing measured. Breathe deep the grace of Lent.

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Dear Patient One,

I write to you on Valentines Day, a poem, the first in a series entitled “Letters From The Village.”

May others discover more of their story in reading some of ours.

Love,

elizabeth

Waves of Grace

We washed up here years ago
Its been years since we first
Drove up and saw that Hugo water marked wall
And fell in love
It was potential we saw
And knew a life could be built

We came back here after tears before them too
And fell for it and each other
We kept coming back
Wave on wave of worry
Left at the entrance
We rocked under the moon and stars

You drove a nail and held that hammer
And we drove kids down
We packed a bag
And fled the mundane
To discover the extraordinary in this ordinary
Life has a way of repeating

Like the scavenger gulls that cry
We have
And laughed and lost our way
On that sea
A time or two
And now only
A year or so remains they grew

Joining Emily and my community at Imperfect Prose on Thursday’s for today’s word prompt LOVE

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