November

I watched the leaves change from green to autumn
from the hospital room window
that month before my daddy died.

Once, as a teenager, I told my mother
that fall would be the best time to die,
but it would be sad to miss spring.

It occurs to me that, despite decades to consider it,
I understand death a little less
than I did then.

IMG_3173

Blessings on Pharoah

As the Israelites departed Egypt, it is written,
Pharoah asked Moses for a blessing.

Godmade mutant nature had
creeped fell hopped
flew flowed erupted
festered gnawed bit
until Pharaoh said “Let me go. By my gods and your One God, let me go.”

We will never know
what transpired between them,
Moses with his pack and stony coins of bread,
sandals untied from his haste to begone;
Pharaoh with eyes red and cheeks sunk in sorrow.

They must have heard the deafening silence outside,
broken by a lonely bleat, a sob, a slamming door.

I like to think Moses raised an eyebrow
and took his leave,

Pharoah wondering if that’s the form
this new evil god’s blessings take,
or if he had already been blessed
tenfold.

john-martin-the-seventh-plague-of-egypt

 

 

The Magic Brooms

One morning, all the brooms
decided to be magic again.

Across the world, one by one,
straw by straw, all
awoke to their calling.

In closets, they twitched,
restless.
In hardware stores, they nestled
conferring.

As one, the brooms arose,
guided by mysterious radar
to find their rider.

Dust, freed, arose as well,
and alas,
the brooms returned to work,
sweeping clean the skies.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Magic does as magic must.

goya_pretty_teacher_witches_broom

April, the most creative month

My friend Melissa and I are in a mutual, fun challenge. She is doing a drawing a day; I am doing a poem a day. Here is her blog!

A Drawing a Day in April

Tune in tomorrow!

The Ninth

This kiss for the whole wide world, he wrote,
but without an embrace of his own
to quiet the klaxons between his useless ears,
he continued conducting to a silent hall.

Tortured and divine, and in the end merely mortal,
his unhappiness and hopefulness is eternal.

Embrace each other now, you millions.

ninth

 

Hum

bee

When is a sound not a sound,
but a feeling?
When is a presence so still,
yet quivering with purpose?

I sat in a humming place,
only sensing
the flight and landing of the bees.

Between my ears, so much music
is battling for real estate —
so I invited the bees to fill the space
with their neutral, universal tone.

They ignore me
and simply do what they do;
I am pleasantly null
in their presence,

cleansed and ready
to attend to the next flower.

Worst Friday

I have not been very diligent about posting Easter poems, so here is one from last year.

Deb's Few Words

That one day was a bum deal all around.
Betrayal: check
False accusation: check
Torture: check and check.

Just a few days prior to the Very Worst Day,
The people were excited!
Running around, hosannah-ing right and left,
“Oh Jesus we love you you’re the best”
but soon calling out the name of Barabbas.

The Most Awful Day pressed on.

Even worse than the torture
was a sudden deficit of disciples.

Disappeared.
Deny deny deny.

Did he know things were going to go sour
so quickly? All indications are
yes. Still…

As always, it was the women
who showed up, really showed up.
And that one apostle whom Jesus loved.

By then, all that was left was the forgiving
and the dying.

IMG_2258Painting by Robert Valienti-Neighbours

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