Come Sit Beside Me, Please
We all need a call to wake up
To attend to right now, right here
With a quorum of the senses reporting for duty
To cast their vote, for slow
Not like we need food and shelter and all the things in Mazlow’s hierarchy of needs
But, like we need poets and psalmists and prophets and spring
And two thin slices of white bread, to be soft enough to hold a thumbprint soft
So that when thick cut bologna bound with red wrapper and Dukes mayonnaise conjoin to Be pressed forward on the roof of one’s mouth, it’ll stick, (serving its white bread pre-Destined purpose of being bookends for meat) later requiring manual unsticking
And requiring two Diet Cokes to wash down the chips that served as a side in lieu of fresh Fruit at the deli counter at the Harris Teeter which serves Boar’s Head beef bologna and The best salt and vinegar chips anywhere served politely by the shy but friendly silver Haired lady with the hair net that she wears with pride because she cares to follow the Rules and she cares too
Like we need a young man on a plane to remind us that twenty two year old adventurers
Have not had time to grow old and cold and jaded like the sad stooped man in 19B
Who doesn’t remember what time zone he is in or what his anniversary is or was before She left him for someone who remembered every year with a Hallmark card and a night Out on the town in her church dress and hose
But rather like we need rust on tin to prove there was a time of new and green
And how we live for low tide to find the rare left-handed conch brought in by the Preceding high tide, deliverer of treasures needing a hand to carry them home
And like we need a toe headed toddler who pats the sofa
With his sausage fat fingers and a nose that needs Kleenex
A diaper that weighs heavy with the need for changing
A pat, pat, pat
Slow as a metronome slow on the far left setting
And says “Read me ‘Good Night Moon’ again”
And only you know,
But don’t care that it’s the 23rd time, since Christmas
As he adds, “come sit beside me, please”
And you do.
Be on the lookout for the first issue. And a chance to subscribe. I hope you will. (Of course it is free).
Just a gift of my art and some things I long to share outside of my blog.
This is my pensive, pondering great content look. I do some of my best brainstorming on the boat.
See how quiet I am. Once a week you will receive a quiet little bundle of prose, poetry, prayer and photography.
It will look and feel a little bit like my instagram feed but different. I am so excited. Truly.
blessings and peace on this beautiful Sunday,
There are moments in these days when I wonder at the keeping. The saving of the remnants. The scraps hang on and hang around. Guilt lays a heavy blanket over me and space becomes scarcer.
And then there are the revelations. The ones with the sound and smell of epiphany. The ones that say. One day you will know, the saving and waiting were for the healing. And for an awakening.
I did a little unpacking.
And the memories found me there. The gaps of mystery will heal in their discovery.
Once Upon A Discovery
Towards the bottom of the bottom
Near the must
(Mold smells like a memory keeper)
Beside the stubs and remnants of a life
The jade green French wired ribbon wraps your earliest days of me
I knew it was your hand that wrote the to and from
Your lips, full and red, that licked the seal
Someone loved hard and long and with a lasting love
Buried in the back of a dresser drawer
(I write the stories I do not know)
But you in your youth left me clues of love and loss
Of pain and joy
It is my turn to follow bread crumbs of a life
To stumble on forgiveness and backtrack without you
If I tell you what you wrote in ’58 and ’59
The heart is now ready
But you’ve lost your mind, a bit
Dementia is a thief
Protecting us in ways which stretch us
Beyond our understanding
We both loved Latin
We now speak Greek, your brow tells me how little you now know
I dream about the lines you wrote
Save them for a crack in time
Wonder what you said of love
The compass points to lime-green veined hands
Three generations mark the trail
We keeper of the treasures
We keeper of the secrets
Tread down a sacred path
Did you mean for me to find, the things that you have left?
Once upon a discovery
I met new parts of you
Gently I will travel
Savoring the stories you chose to never tell
May asks me if am I ready
The Spring will heal us all
I want to wander upon wonder
Brush up against beauty
Pick up pieces of particular perfection
Breathe in the moments too precious to pass by
I want to gather up shimmering rays from the sky
Pack my pockets with intangible gifts
Slow to the beat of the earth’s natural rhythm
Tell you I love you a million times million
I want to praise with my life
Sing with my lips, songs and old hymns
Again and again till my lungs empty flat out
Soak in the broken, but beautiful before me
I want to be blinded by glistening small ordinary
See past the obvious to what lies beyond
Peel back the layers of meaning and winsome
Press past the concrete and into the waiting
I want to hope with the hurting and cry with the sad ones
Reach out to souls sinking in pain and despair
Wipe the tears creeping down cheeks, chins and noses
Of wrinkled and weary worn out ones
I want to love the unloveable empty and lonely
Point out the grace and the mercy right here
Not miss a chance to say something small
That causes connection between me and you.
I want to answer a calling, divine, sacred, holy
Make art that speaks to the hidden and seen
Gather up fragments of splintered and broken
Love and write with a faith that grows daily.
Sink into moments divine, yet all mine
Marked and apportioned for a time such as this
Soaked in the simple, drenched in holy bliss
A divine assignment is wrapped round this day.
(Inspiration for today’s post drawn from the words of Elora Nicole who is teaching me a few things about words.)
Joining Jennifer for #tellhisstory