Infamy

 It rained in Uvalde Tuesday night,

a steady, hard rain all night long—

a cleansing rain to wash away our brokenness,

a steady refrain;

a funeral veil to cover the bodies

of nineteen little ones—

why so many?—

plucked at the bud and not the bloom;

a useful rain,

fitting symbol of a city on her knees in agony.

For a moment, the sky wept with us,

just like Jesus.

Dark clouds have replaced the rain,

growing ever ominous by the day.

Uvalde.  Synonymous now with Columbine—

Columbine, a rarity in those days,

a far-reaching tragedy.

For both, a trail of events were set in motion

that would take years to overcome:

Uvalde’s Trail of Tears,

her Pearl Harbor,

her cross to bear.

Infamy.

The Voice which Gives Me Life

For Vincent

Waiting,
I sit in silence as I listen
for the Voice which calls me forward.
Turning,
I move about my cramped quarters.
Hearing,
I note the soundings that engulf me--
thump-thump, swish-swish, glug-glug, shh-shh.
This is a noisy place.

Growing,
I bump into my outer limits,
a sanctuary fertile with its purpose.
Tasting,
I drink in abundant flavors.
Feeling,
I touch textures which envelop me; they
speak of warmth, security and meaning.
This is a sumptuous place.

Seeing,
I perceive the light and darkness, shapes
which filter through the membranes closed tight.
Knowing,
I am known by my true name.
Hiding,
I am not hidden from the One who
skillfully has wrought my inward, secret parts.
This is a shrouded place.

Stirring,
I hear the Voice which says it's time--
time for wonder, adoration, love.
Time for breath to make my own voice heard among the chorus,
to know as I am fully known,
and praise the Voice which calls me forth to life.
This is a glorious place.

Eagle's Wings

They that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings as eagles...

-Isaiah 40:31

Distance reigned as I grew up.

Disorder closely followed.

At times Loneliness, a friend to both,

sidled up to sit beside me

and cradle me inside her arms,

poor girl.

Sleep stole away my hours then,

with laziness and lethargy her strong elixirs,

to mask the pain that hurt too much to feel.

Yet even then, He stood--

Lord over even these--

wings outstretched to cover me.

And then, through life's crescendo,

in a flash the cover vanished.

Panic struck as Mother struck another--

not with hands but force which crumpled both

the car and driver.

Questions hovered as expectations waned.

But live she did--not just days, but weeks

stretched into years,

years later,

docile,

with gentle spirit,

dead only to

Past's accusation.

But where was I?

Or, rather, where was He?
Silenced were the voices which, earlier, had called so loud,
replaced now with a deep, deep sorrow
too great for words.
Wordless, there He stood, wings still outstretched,
with tears held in His eyes, the
darkness pushed behind Him,
awaiting orders.
Shadowed by His hand almighty,
there I sat beneath Him
protected
from the storm,
full of grief and yet
still full
of strength
to carry on
and hope eternal.

Miscarriage

A growth forms inside me,
knit in secret and
as yet
yet to be.
It bulges my circumstance
with the hint of new life, an
intoxicating fragrance.
With each affirmation
the fullness enlarges,
anticipating the merge
of two halves into whole.
Surely it's coming
soon to arrive
with its bundle of joy
everlasting.

Delivery

Birth.

Like death, it is the fullness

of requisite labor pains

of sorrow and travail,

someone else’s constant toil

to bring us

in a moment

from where we are to where we yet will be—

on the one hand, joyously,

from the unseen to the seen;

on the other, tearfully,

from the seen into the sea

which spans the sands of time,

a great Cloud which stands over and above us

full of witnesses to choices made,

both good and evil.

This Someone watches over us,

to make sure all is well,

makes sure we make it

to our destination,

temporal or 

eternal.

Funny how the way we come is very near

the way we go—

through another’s constant vigil,

brooding,

working,

striving,

toiling

to bring us safe and sound

to our new home.

What Holds Me

Tiny kittens lay heads down upon my chest,
their virgin fur tucked gently 'tween my fingers.
Secure,
they launch their pleasure's test drive,
tentative yet strong and smooth.

Puppies jump into my lap,
their uncontrollable excitement spilling over,
and soak me through
with showers of their sloppy kisses
softly innocent and sweet.

Children bump into my arms
so plump and charming,
chubby fingers interlocking mine.
I watch them stumble over untrained feet
in wonder.


I've held so many things,
but never once what holds my gaze.
Each time any one of these creeps nearer,
so do you.
What if I stepped closer?

Awake

I'm dreaming.
I'm supposed to be asleep,
rocked like a baby
in the warmth of Your will,
and yet I lie awake
rebellious
in the ample bosom of desire.
I taste its nearness
as my eyes slip closed--
flitting open
to the emptiness beside me,
poor substitute for love's affection.