The writing of a poet

It's Friday night. As I was listening to two poet laureates speak about their craft,  they spoke the language of ones' who see life through a different lense; a prism through which the world is seen in an a sundry of parts that make the whole, I felt my thoughts tug, in recognition of fellow adventurers who love to write the thoughts of the world in little splashes of light or in puddles of darkness, looking at the substance of small acts and beauty in the ways that touch and move like those of a graphic picture on a canvas of words. 

Some of my best poetry is not the kind one reads at events, or at least not for me.  The thoughts that reach out come from a place lost in the richness of time and depth of feeling. Last summer, while watching my daughter and her husband and my only (at the time) grandson drive out the driveway on their way home to Colorado, another title played in my mind, the poem I wanted to write. It would be titled "Missing Titus" the 'alone feeling' of knowing you won't be with your grandchild or those precious to you for a long while. I've written poems about love and love lost, God and the morning dawn, the unborn begging for its humanity before it might be aborted by its mother, the inner pain of a friend who struggles with depression in the face of a deep faith of God that keeps her despite the darkest of times, and poems of delight that express the joy of seeing the natural things of intricate loveliness. 

Many times I find myself sitting, looking like I am doing nothing, when in reality, my mind is full of thoughts I am sorting to make sense of the details, wondering where God is in the moment I am pausing to consider. I once said to a friend, that I am an observer.  It is true, and it is frustrating as well, especially when there is so much living to be done. At times I want to quit teaching the three Rs and open my students to the world of sweetness. I used to read poetry to my students, to help them see what I find so beautiful. But alas, I find it seems to have taken a backseat to more pressing instructional mandates. It's unfortunate. There is something so exceptionally beautiful in selecting just the right word to complete a word picture of thought.  Time.  I am more aware of time these days. Time is precious. I will conclude these thoughts with a poem I wrote a couple of years ago.

FRIENDSHIP FLOWER

Friendship flower began
     to bloom one day
After careful nurture
     along the way

She unfurled soft petals
     in gentle loveliness
Her sensual fragrance
     exquisite in delicateness

Dainty friendship flower
     embrace the white light
Glisteny dew of love's first kiss
     tear-drops in endless delight

The Symptoms of Inner PEACE

From the late, Jerry Dean, my brother-in-law who embraced sobriety and found God to be enough. I can say, he lived up to the words in this writing that he shared with me. I am not sure where it originated, to give it proper credit.
...

THE SYMPTOMS OF INNER PEACE

1. A tendency to think and act deliberately, rather than from fears based on past experiences.
2. An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment.
3. A loss of interest in judging others.
4. A loss of interest in judging self.
5. A loss of interest in conflict.
6. A loss of interest in interpreting the action of others.
7. A loss of ability to worry.
8. Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation.
9. Contented feelings of connectedness with others and nature.
10. Frequent attacks of smiling through the heart.
11. Increasing susceptibility to kindness offered, and the uncontrollable urge to reciprocate.
12. An increasing tendency to allow things to unfold, rather than resisting and manipulating.

Not Alone

Have you ever felt like you were pushed up against the wall and there was no way of escape? I don't like the feeling. As I lay awake this week into the early morning hours contemplating my misery not knowing the best way to deal with an impossible (at least it felt impossible) situation. I felt full frustration and anger with that which I could not change and do not have the resources to alter.  It felt like an impasse, me against my foe (which I won't take the liberty to tell you!). But, as always, a break-through came eventually. It involves something I will call "surrender".

 Many times over I have come to places in my life when I have been literally overwhelmed, too anxious or weary to deal with a situation, taking me to a place where I have had to fully trust in God to get me through it.  Every time it is different than before, not only is the situation different, but my dependency on God alters in some way.  No two experiences are identical. The curious thing is, as a result I will feel a sense similar to that of the lightning of a load; a burden, or care, its darkness being lifted and peace entering as it flees. It is one of those things which can be explained but is not understood until once experienced.

As a timid person, I have had many fears. But the hardest things for me are those things which come my way uninvited, things that I don't think I can surmount the obstacles. For other people, they have their own set of challenges. I think our Father God must long to hear us say, "Father, I can't do it.  Help me.  I need you, I can't do this but I know you can. Show me the way and help me.  I can't do it without you. I ask for wisdom, strength and your help.  I love you." It is the cry of a child in need of a parent. The parent is gentle, wise, and all-caring.  How glad I am for his gift-love to me, and that I am not alone in the time of difficulty.

As morning guilds the sky

As I write this, I am watching the sunrise from my kitchen window.  It is God's greeting to me this morning.  I love sunrises and sunsets, They have their part in making a day into a moment of transformation and transfixion.  Last night I was walking outside as the sky morphed from blue into a blend of pink-purple softness.  God's adieu to me. Lovely!  But, now it is a new day.  The sunlight as it emerges in subtle whisperings infuses light into our lives and cheerfulness to brighten our hearts.  

I think of two fields with acres of sunflowers I passed each day on my way to work this fall (I live in the country).  One particular field was stunning.  The sunflower heads were raised to the morning sunlight in a sea of yellow happiness.  I wish I had stopped long enough to take their picture.  Right now in my viewing, there are pink strata lines of clouds across the baby-blue sky, below these pink strips is an orange-yellow outline above indigo-tinged mountains.  Ebony English walnut trees are reaching to the sky in ghostly silhouette images in front of this panorama; a magnificent pine tree rises above them all as it points to the heavens. Gorgeous!    

Often a mixture of songs will play their words in my mind as I look at the morning light opening up in its radiance.  It is a nice way to get pumped up for a new day.  This year I've spent many mornings leaving for work in darkness just as the sun was beginning to come up.  As While driving south I would watch as the sun rose from a nothingness into a full pulsating yellow-oranged orb.  Beautiful.  As delicious as savoring a yummy chocolate when you're on a diet, making the day a bit brighter and better.  I'd say to myself, I would have missed that if I didn't go to work. It has been a stressful school year for me, so I've looked for the little things to celebrate.  It is a beautiful day in God's kingdom.