Monthly Archives: August 2003

Mother's Cry

I’m mad at you God.

I wanted it all to be perfect

A loving husband and good kids

That did what I expected

Now look at what You’ve done!

 

Did I not follow where You led?

Did I not listen?

What happened to the plans

That I concocted?

What are You doing?

 

It hurts to be a mother

With all my parent wishes.

I’ve tried to do Your will

I’ve tried to teach them

How can they banish You ?

 

I’ve still no answers

To my anguished pleas

When will they see?

When will they hear?

God please answer me!

 

I look up for Your face

Can’t see for tears

Feel nothing now but love

In my pain, You take me in Your arms

And say I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

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Thoughts on Mother’s Day

Why do you get so sentimental on the one day of the year honoring mothers?

Do you think somehow one day will compensate for all the times when in frustration

I have asked for help and been ignored?

Is this a day to scrub clean the slate of misdemeanors?

To right the list of everything gone wrong?

 

I am a mother and feel abused by good intentions to glorify my role by shallow means.

You ask me what I would like to have, to do, on this one day

And quietly I say We could go out for dinner.”

When all I want could not in a million dinners

Not in a million days be satisfied.

 

My child by birth or melded to my heart by choice, look deep into my eyes.

I want you to enjoy all life’s best things, accomplish where I’ve failed, sing where I’ve cried.

I’d have you search what heaven alone can give.

Your gift most precious to me’d be

A life of faith that’s lived in joy for God.

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Confession

Everything I really wish for seems, 

All my unspoken dreams,

So out of reach.

My attitude so self absorbed

Grace hardest to achieve.

 

Sleepless, I sit awake at night.

Machining words in space.

Confession costs

If I confess, then I must  change

And what if I cannot?

 

Sometimes I hate the ones I love

And tottering on the brink

Of violence.

Slash with words irretrievable

Once they are spoken.

 

O Great God my Father!

In love you promised me

Forgiveness.

Redeem, Please make me yours again.

And set me free.

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The Climbing Tree

We have the best climbing tree in all the town.

Under its shade and in its branches

Things go on that only it could tell.

Children climb

Lovers cling

And insobriety takes a rest.

 

Do they think you don’t know, O ancient wood

And store it up within

Veins among pith and resin?

You watch silent

They unaware

That you report to the Almighty.

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Joy

It is harder to write of joy

Than sorrow.

But one without the other

Is either

Heaven

Or Hell

 

To be filled with irrepressible

Delight

Is a pleasure known only

To long

Time

Lovers.

 

So do not strive too hard

For pleasure.

It comes unfettered

Only

In the

Hereafter.

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A Holy Moment: Thoughts on Communion With God

It was a Holy moment,

The breaking of the bread

The drinking of the wine

The passing of the peace

In reverent liturgy.

 

It was a Holy moment

It is finished”

Taking the torture for me

My heart so hard.

Doing it anyway.

 

The moment waits. Auspicious,

In quiet pursuit, wanting,

Or unable, by my wooden head,

To bring the mystery to bear

As it should on my soul.

 

It circles the edge of my soul

Trying to enter

To bring reason and order

To the confusing themes

Of everyday life.

 

But I miss

Grasping the pierced hands.

Clinging to my own marred

Dreams of ambition.

Slipping t’wards oblivion.

 

So I remain, holding

My own fate in my deformed claws

Grasping at straws while

Eternity waits

Ever so patiently waits.

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Famined

Famined          

 

Hunger hardly tells the half of it.

Famined is more like it.

The deep pit of the belly reels.

The very inner self cries for food.

 

Skin and sinews left on bones.

Bellies round and full of nothing.

Eyes black in their sunken sockets.

Flies circle waiting for their prey.

 

A mother keens for the child

Suckling at her shriveled breast.

Knowing the end is soon

Too soon for her first and last born.

 

God take them quickly

Let them drink from your life giving stream

Feast them at your table.

While we, satiated, rot in our own garbage.

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