Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Stories at Bedtime

Oh my child, have you lit the lamp tonight?
The desert winds howl and moan
as they stretch nimble fingers
and whip the tents.
Our enemy prowls.
Have you lit the lamp tonight?

Did you see the pillar, my child?
The pillar of cloud or fire?
It moves and we move.
We move where it moves,
following on ever-lasting foot-leather
over rock and dust,
past sunning lizard and slithering snake,
to the waters where love
makes bitterness into sweet pools
to cool weary brows.

They say that He is in the pillar, my child.
Yes, they say it's true.
They shiver and quiver and shake
when He speaks with thunderclap,
but I have heard Him whisper.
I have heard His voice
as I watch you sleep,
your eyes folded like praying hands.
He whispers, "As you love this child,
so I love you, and him too. Do not fear
when My glory moves to places strange
to eyes too used to Egypt's gleam.
Other wonders have I prepared for you.
Believe Me, and you will see."

So we light the lamp of welcome
to our God, the lamp of light
in thick darkness, to push
away the taint of slavery,
to say to the night,
"You shall not cause our feet
to stumble. Surely God
guides us ever, steady on."

And now sleep, my child.
God sings over us in our slumber
and makes us safe as we rest.
Sleep, and believe. For the pillar
will move, and follow it
we will—the glory of our Lord.

12.1.03

Friday, September 03, 2004

poema(s) en proceso

Forgive the Spanglish, if I got the Spanish wrong. It's been an interesting two days.

Anyhoo, this is something in process. Still toying with the metaphors and how the thing should progress, so PLEASE ADVISE! What do you think? Seriously, I WANT FEEDBACK!!!



(untitled as yet)

reaching out
reaching over
no hand in the darkness
no head on the other pillow

but still...
the ghost of your hand
lays neatly in mine
the ghost of your smile
glows a moonlit patch

leftover strains
haunting rhythms
echo in corridors
delineating
what cannot be there


OK, so maybe I wrote poetry bits today rather than one whole poem. Yeah. Anyway, here's another bit:

(untitled as yet)

one cannot live
on freeze-dried hopes
that crumble when
taken off the shelf


And another bit:

(yes, untitled)

i was looking for reasons
when reason had left me
alone and confused
bruised
by broken expectation's
hard, sharp corners


And yet another:

time keeps marchin' on
right through to the sea
and leavin' nothin' but
rubble behind

[Cheery, no?]


will light stepping
forward, side, back, side
find another light
that dances
a complementary pattern?


Well, that's it for today. Please do comment.

Friday, August 27, 2004

the Lover and His beloved

My darling,

I chose you to be My bride.
you are beautiful.
more than the curve of your cheek
and the chocolate of your eye
catches My breath:
the gentle way you spoke
those kind words to the stranger,
the joy in your voice when you sing to Me
and tell me I'm wonderful,
and the courage that blooms in you
when you stand for Me and the truth.
I dance over you, my lovely one.

your Prince


my Lover,

You loved
before i could love You back
gave all You had to buy me.
they paid thirty pieces of silver to betray You,
but You gave up Your throne
and paid Your blood and body to save
them and me.
see my wedding gown,
a white robe of linen,
washed clean at Calvary,
righteousness wrapping around me.
You write my married name,
a secret name
on a white stone.
You go to prepare our home,
and i stay here, reading Your letter.
i listen to Your heart beating, speaking and
singing over me words of love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness,
and self-control.
my heart learns the rhythms of Yours
and beats in time to Your song.
and it thrums the tune of longing
till You come to take me home.

Your princess bride

1.23.03; revised 8.27.04

beloved to her Father

i've misplaced the armor, Daddy.
will You find it for me?
'cause the enemy's sneaking up the back...
You already set me free,
but why do i reach for the chains?

cover my heart with the things i do
from Your goodness in me
and cover my head with the knowing
that You saved me.
bind them with who You are---You're the truth.
shield me with trust, shod me with peace,
and arm me with Your Words...
i'm praying and i'm ready, Dad;
don't go away.

the heat of the enemy's arrows
burns my cheek as they hiss by.
they come fast and in number.
but the armor You gave me
extinguishes his lies.
the sting and the poison
cannot get through the defense.

i will walk in the parade
down the center of New Jerusalem,
not limping, not chained to the enemy.
You're bringing me back from AWOL,
and You're leading on to victory.

see Your people,
standing firm
believing---
and keeping on believing---
that the war one day will be over
and Your banner will fly over all.

7.22.02; revised 8.27.04


Friday, August 06, 2004

Abraham's child

Abraham's child has been sent
'round Mt. Sinai again.
She must not forget the fire-voice.
The words spoken over her
fell like the Spirit's tongues on apostles.

He climbs the mountain with her.
Together they build the Ebeneezer
She knows the great I AM will provide.
And so He removes the girlish dreams,
burns the yearnings on the altar fire,
refining the longings to a golden nugget.

Abraham's child comes down the mountain
and sets off across the desert,
a quest to fulfill.
The words of His song wrap her
like a cowl against the sun's scorch.

Later, she returns.
She sees that from His neck
a golden nugget hangs, right over His heart.
He removes the gold
and takes it to an anvil.
With the hammmer, He pounds the gold,
then fashions it into a crown.
He places the crown on her head
and steps back, admiring.
He smiles.
She removes the crown
and places it at His feet,
then takes His outstretched hand.
She covers the nail mark with her palm.

(7.18.02; new draft, 8.6.04)

toward the luminosity

tearing down the high places
demolishing strongholds
till there's nowhere left to rn
but to the Cleft of the Rock

a cave of Abdullam
becomes an open space
a swath of freedom
cordoned by limitless love

i cling to You
to none but You
free
open-handed
arms swung wide
dancing with joy to Your song
and discover that

You are the life i learn
the love i cannot earn
the depth of the beyondness of things
beyond touch
beyond reach
beyond knowledge
yet always present
You are
the vibrance of a June sky
the vividness of autumn leaves
the snap of December's chill
the sweetness of grass after a spring rain

oh the unbearable lightness of being
of being still, surrendered to You
of holding the uncertainty of life and not letting go
of letting the reins fall and not searching for certainty

deep breaths of possibility
tinglings of expectation
hope fulfilled---just around the corner

my heart rises when You approach
surprises me
You delight me
but why
i cannot catch
as i cannot catch You

(12.14.01; revised 8.6.04)

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Discovering the delights of non-fiction

In the past, fiction made up most of my leisure reading. After recent trips to the library for the unearthing sources to verify facts in a publication I'm copy editing, I've discovered that non-fiction isn't as boring as I had thought.

Here's a list of interesting tomes I've checked out and am in the process of reading or perusing:

Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors by Piers Paul Read
The Greatest Survival Stories Ever Told: Seventeen Incredible Tales, edited by Lamar Underwood (Some of these are short fictional stories, such as Jack London's "To Build a Fire.")
Houdini: The Untold Story by Milbourne Christopher
The Gypsies by Jan Yoors
The Astonishing Mr. Scripps: The Turbulent Life of America's Penny Press Lord by Vance H. Trimble
The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses by C. S. Lewis

Other non-fiction I've enjoyed:
Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes
Bella Tuscany by Frances Mayes
travel books about Spain and Argentina (their titles escape me)
Anne Frank: A Life Remembered by Miep Gies

More later ...

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Cup of tea and thee

Yay! This blog will be about some of my favorite things: tea, books, movie adaptations of books, and my sometimes-successful attempts at writing poetry (or merely prose organized into pretty lists of lines *teehee!*).

Have a cuppa Earl Grey on me!

Tah!