Tucked into a bend of the river
the Rio Grande Nature Center is
one of my favorite places in Albuquerque.
I try to visit each time I am in town.
Tucked into the side of the trail,
one late October day,
amid some dying weeds and some decaying trees,
delicate purple flowers appear.
I don’t know how or when I discovered this special spot,
but I suspect that my special friends Gladys and J.C.
had something to do with it.
23 October 2009
Rio Grand Nature Center State Park
Albuquerque, NM
My family instilled a love of travel in me. Childhood memories of road trips, camping and “the box” where we carried food to cut costs, fill me.
On the trips my brother and sister and I would often get souvenirs. Sometimes the decisions took place in an instant. Other times deep thought went into the decision. I watched my sons do the same. Few if any of my souvenirs remain, although the memories shine strong. Some of my sons’ souvenirs decorate our house, they may retain others, others disappeared long ago. In any case, I hope they have wonderful memories as well.
Whether discarded before the trip ended or preserved until the present day, choice stood as a common factor behind them. I selected each of my souvenirs as did my siblings and children in their turn.
Yesterday, I obtained a souvenir that someone chose for me. I traveled to Princeton Theological Seminary to meet with students who will do field education at the Presbyterian Ministry at the United Nations. We had great conversations and a picnic lunch. Then I headed to the train and the trip back to New York.
I sat, unknowing, in a quiet car. I either missed the sign or there it did not exist. I either missed the announcement or no announcement came.
I had started a phone conversation on the platform. I continued it in my seat. All went well until the conductor made his way down the aisle. He punched my ticket, tersely said, “Quiet car,” and handed me a card.
I quickly ended my call and sat in silence back to New York. I kept my new souvenir. We’ll see how long it lasts.
See you along the Trail.
My friend and colleague Joe is also a poet. I always enjoy the work he shares. When I had read and re-read this one, I finally got up the nerve to ask him if I could post it. I am grateful he said yes and grateful for his writing.
ANOTHER TUESDAY: Red White & Blues
Another Tuesday indeed.
Bright shining spectacular morning sun rising.
Fresh almost autumn breezes.
Another wonderfully grateful start the day.
Calmly remembering.
English friend’s prayer from across The Pond.
Knotting key stripes tied to anniversary.
Rush run catch express bus into Manhattan.
That Tuesday changed road ride to work til now.
Like US flags half-staffed commuters conscious.
Where we were where we are now then again.
Quiet movements search hopes, peace, hope.
Words not needed facts speak for themselves.
Carefully conscious going forward together.
Through urban cavern slice of Freedom Tower soars.
Rising up, shining rising new, far, tall beyond beyond.
Stirs so many so much living monumental memories.
Large tear freezes moment reminding roots + links.
Decade plus red, white blues color considerations.
Uptown Midtown pause respects at US Mission to UN.
Holy Family Church steel relief Easter Christ soars too
Deep stained glass blues, saints letting light through.
Candles in calm reverence seeing all naming names.
Echo arrives Ground Zero officer speaks his heart.
Praying prayers rising up here everywhere today.
Family first, friends too, neighbors, near/far colleagues.
Beyond morning rushing other side of silence rises up.
Day’s works here & around spinning universe challenge.
Seize the Abundance, hold on, stand firm, reach out.
Still Tuesday.
Still NYC, Washington, Shanksville, our world.
Still hopes carrying losses courageously.
Still fears unpredictable, uncertainties, unknowns.
Still amazing graces given, shared, treasured.
Still paths to peace possible – necessary all.
Still – HOME.
joseph cornelius donnelly
tuesday, september 11, 2012 – new york city
Filed under Current Events, Friends, New York, Poem
The country matters. Context always matters. Each situation plays out in unique ways due to the specific circumstances in which the people find themselves and place helps shape those circumstances.
The country matters not. What my sisters and brother told me could happen – happen exactly as they described it or happen as variations on a theme – in too many countries of the world.
We sat in our conference room and they told me of human rights abuses in their country of birth. Each of them had fled for various reasons. And while they each fled to different countries first, they all ended up in New York.
At first they told horrible, but generic stories. Stories of torture, disappearance, deprivation, separation, violation. Such stories prove hard for me to read; they prove harder still to hear – to hear from sisters and a brother who know the people, the children of God, who are ill-used and abused. But out of respect for God’s children, I refuse to turn away from such stories. I read and sit in witness. Out of respect for God’s children, I refused to turn away this afternoon. I sat in witness.
Then they told the stories of their family …
… of cousins tortured …
… of brothers killed …
… of a sister repeatedly raped and finally shot …
… one bullet to the brain.
“I have two sons,” F. said as tears dribbled down her cheeks. “I do not know where my sons are. Do you know what it is like for a mother not to know where her sons are? Not to know if they are safe? Not to know what might be happe … ?” She could not finish, did not need to finish. I do not know. I can never know. I can only imagine what it might be like for a father. I can never know her pain, her grief, her anguish. I can only sit in witness, honored that she would share it with me.
Tears flowed from eight eyes.
The stories continued until they had spent their need to talk. Pain and heartache filled the silence surrounding us.
Finally, B. spoke, “But we have hope.”
And my heart cracked again. Unconquerable love breaks our hearts as surely as does unspeakable evil.
“We have hope. And we will continue to work to change things in our country.”
More tears flowed into the silence that followed but, at least for me, hope and courage and grace now danced amid the moisture on my cheeks. I wiped away the snot that clogged my nose. And somehow I had the good sense to say nothing, but simply to sit in witness.
M. broke the silence by asking me to look for ways to support them and to pray for them, for those they love, and for their country.
I did. I will. They stood to leave. We shook hands. We hugged. They left. And I remember. I pray. I write in witness. And I wonder what more I will do. To be continued …
See you along the Trail.
As I was writing this entry, a friend posted a link on Facebook to a story that spoke to me in similar ways: ‘Comfort Woman’ Activist Still Going Strong at 89. Ms. Kim Bok-dong was forced to serve as a “comfort woman” during World War II. For years, she and other survivors lived silently with their scars. But in 1991, things changed when a Japanese government official blamed the system of “comfort women” on civilians, denying any government culpability, the women broke their silence and told their stories seeking an acknowledgement of the truth in an effort to “help other victims who go through the same atrocities.” In March 2012, Ms. Kim Bok-dong founded the Butterfly Fund to aid victims of sexual violence in Congo, Afghanistan and Uganda.
Unspeakable evil and unconquerable love break my heart once again. Thank you, Yena, for sharing this story at this time and for our brief virtual chat.
Filed under Human Rights
For those who know – or have heard about (endlessly in some cases) – my son Eric, the Trail has taken him to Austin, Texas where he will serve this year as a Young Adult Volunteer. He blogs at Explorations and Experiences of Eric. His works with Front Steps at the ARCH – a daytime resource center and overnight shelter for people who are homeless. In that role, he will blog at Front Steps at the ARCH. Check him out.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Family
Terrance Williams is scheduled to be executed by the people of Pennsylvania on October 3, 2012 for his role in the murder of Amos Norwood.
People of Faith Against the Death Penalty and Pennsylvanians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty are partnering to ask Pennsylvania religious leaders to endorse a letter to Pennsylvania Gov. Tom Corbett and the Pennsylvania Board of Pardons appealing for clemency for Mr. Williams.
Time is of the essence. If you are a religious leader living in Pennsylvania, please support this call for clemency by endorsing the letter here.
If you know religious leaders who live in Pennsylvania, please encourage them to take immediate action.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Capital Punishment, Death Penalty, Human Rights
On the way to Taos one day,
we chose to take the high road
as it is called;
along the way
we stopped and
spotted purple flowers.
5 August 2008
High Road to Taos
We neither
feel nor hear
the wind;
we remain
dry afar
from rain;
we safely
sit and wait
on board
as the storm
its fury
expends
on New York
where journey
will end.
8 September 2012
Midway Gate B-3
Southwest 1945
Along the Graybeard Trail 