It is time,
time to begin,
time to begin again,
time to begin again – again.
4 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Category Archives: Poem
Resolution?
Filed under Poem
Let me be … a tree
Worship at a recent staff retreat included the poem “More Beautiful than the Honey Locust Trees Are the Words of the Lord” by Mary Oliver. This poem appears in her book Thirst.
It explores themes of worship and nature and church and creation. Filled with rich, surprising images, the words and structure give much to ponder.
One sentence jumped out at me as I read it. It stays with me:
Instead I went back to the woods where not a single tree turned its face away.
And I wonder. When have I turned my face away? Who are the people, my brothers and sisters, from whom I have turned my face away? Why have I turned my face away? What does it say about me that I turn my face away? How can I learn to be like a tree and not turn my face away?
And I wonder. When has the church turned its face away? When have members of a congregation, some, a few, many, all, turned their faces away? Who are the people, God’s beloved children, from whom the church and congregations turn away? What does it say about the church, about a congregation, that faces turn away? How can the church learn to be like a tree? How can a congregation learn to be like the woods?
I know, to my sorrow and shame, I know some of the times I have turned my face away. I know some of the people from whom I have turned away. I understand in some situations; in others it is not so clear why I turned away. I know some of the times that the church, and members of a congregation, have turned away.
But I don’t know all the times.
So I pray that I may be aware of my face and never turn my face away from my sisters and brothers; that I may have the grace to know when I turn my face away, because I will; that when I turn my face away, I may have the courage to repent and turn my face back to my brothers and sisters.
So I pray that I may be aware of when the church turns its face away; that I may be aware of when a congregation turns its face away; that I may have the grace and courage to work with the church and with congregations to repent and turn ts face back to my brothers and sisters.
So I pray let us be the woods let me be a tree. Amen.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Antiracism, Poem, Worship
After the fall
Fire races
from his hip to his knee;
his shoulder
stiffens and throbs;
yet both pains,
all pains,
pale against
the strangling grief
that crushes
life and joy
from his heart.
3:10 AM
23 November 2013
Shire on the Hudson
Manhattan, New York
Subway wind
Weary, drained,
I stand on the platform
and wait for the train.
I know there is no
signal, yet still
I check my phone.
I step to the edge
and marvel at the
debris between the rails.
The air begins to stir;
then picks up force;
wind surges down the tunnel.
Displaced by the arriving train,
the wind whistles through the station,
and the wind whispers “home.”
And it revives me.
Shire on the Hudson
31 October 2013
The day
Tomorrow
becomes
tomorrow
becomes
tomorrow.
Day follows day
like pages
turning in a book.
Tomorrow
becomes
tomorrow
becomes
tomorrow.
Until tomorrow
becomes today,
becomes the day,
and we act.
18 October 2013
Shire near the Hudson, New York
Moon shines; hope lives
Reflecting light,
the moon shines.
Between buildings,
the moon shines.
Through clouds,
the moon shines.
The moon shines,
hope rises.
The moon shines,
hope abides.
The moon shines,
hope lives.
16 October 2013
Manhattan, New York
Today, my friend
Today,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Peace,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Rest,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Strength,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Hope,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Courage,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Justice,
my friend,
I pray for you.
This day,
my friend,
I pray for you.
Always,
my friend,
I pray for you.
14 September 2013
Shire on the Hudson
Slightly different versions of this prayer-poem came out today for friends in different difficult situations.
Purple flowers, Annapolis 5
Some purple flowers
pose such a threat
they are held behind fences.
Annapolis, Maryland
22 September 2012
The AMA
Behind the emergency room curtain,
the addict argued with the doctor
who had revived him,
who had returned him to life –
who had returned him to life –
again –
the third time it had happened in a month.
the third time it had happened in a month.
“Please,” the addict pleaded.
He whined,
blustered,
threatened,
begged,
raged,
wept,
bargained.
“Please let me go.”
raged,
wept,
bargained.
“Please let me go.”
The addict listed all he had to do,
all he could do,
all he might do.
“Please let me go.”
“Please let me go.”
He made promises and
when those failed to move her,
he just as easily promised the opposite.
“Please let me go.”
Two things the doctor asked.
Two things the addict would not do:
sign the AMA,
take the prescribed meds.
Firm the doctor stood.
As security guards arrived,
Death,
gaunt Death,
quiet Death,
unseen Death,
Death rose from the corner and
said, “Not today. Not today.”
Then Death slipped silently through the curtain
To move down the ER hall.
29 August 2013
DL 6026
Measuring
We may measure our days in
minutes, hours, or
other units of times.
How we fill those minutes, hours, or
other units of time
also measures our days.
We may measure our lives in
months, years, or
other units of time.
What we do during those months, years, or
other units of time
also measures our lives.
28 August 2013
Louisville, Kentucky
Filed under Louisville, Poem, Travel
Along the Graybeard Trail 