I once knew a child
Who thought leaves blowing wildly
Created the wind.
Now a days people
Speak ideas and opinions
And create hot air.
I once knew a child
Who thought leaves blowing wildly
Created the wind.
Now a days people
Speak ideas and opinions
And create hot air.
While I ambled along with my shopping cart
A car pulled up beside me.
A voice asked for my ID
Because I walked too speedily.
It was a joke. I know the man.
A mainstay in my travel plans
He provides me rides to catch my planes.
He gave sad news. He’ll soon retire and move out to LA.
I moved here four short years ago
Already my future is rearranged.
If I should choose to dwell in “now”
I’ll freely live in daily change.
Silvery, silken
Gossamer reminiscence
Of days now long past
Faded and precious
Distant from reality
It’s time to move on
Dreams spread before me
Future possibility
Rainbow in gray skies.
Like a cathedral’s soaring vault
Outside my window tree branches arch
Forming my sanctuary roof
Green as summer.
Here inside my writing room
Quiet and cool invites my muse
Leaving world and strife behind
Perhaps I can escape.
But not today.
I cannot rest in solitude
When cries of anger, pain andĀ fear
Pierce my self-centered peace.
I have no healing words to write
Only love wrung out of me
To fling into communal scream
What will become of us?
Earth air water fire
Basic elements surround
While I mediate
Candle flame and air
Unite, earth feeds potted plant
Thriving green nearby
Hot water coffee
Stirred, make brew to waken me
Prayers reach heavenward
New upholstery
Covers multitude of flaws
Hides unpleasant truths.
Written in response to Running In My Head’s “Wicked Word Wednesday” – Upholstery
No longer a driver I now rely on Senior Transportation Connection to get me to doctor’s appointments. A small white van picks me up and I enter a world shared with others who also have learned to do without a car. The drivers are interesting in their own right. Altogether I enjoy being differently-abled.
This morning I used the STC service to get to my dentist’s office. When my appointment was over another van picked me up for the trip home. I was the single passenger. As we waited at a red light a school bus drove by. The STC driver remarked that she wanted to drive school buses. We agreed how important and rewarding it would be to be part of children’s lives in these dangerous and uncertain times. A black woman raised in the South, she wanted to pass on the sound teachings and community values of her family. She believed children nowadays need direction. And she told me the story of her daughter who has ADHD.
Her story revealed her as a mother who sought help for her child and accepted the difficult diagnosis. A woman who educated herself about ADHD. After a long search she found a school who asked what they could do for her daughter and for her. She replied “Believe in me.” I marveled at her wisdom and humility, and her faith and prayers.
I told her about my son who recently didn’t get the teaching job he applied for in a prosperous suburb. Instead he interviewed with an inner-city Charter School and got what he calls the job of a lifetime. He is grateful to be able to give his gifts as an experienced teacher and help shape children’s lives in this time of upheaval.
We two women, one black and one white, both mothers and one also a grandmother, were bound in our love for children everywhere. It is amazing but not exactly unexpected that we came together as kindred spirits in these weeks of unspeakable carnage and grief. These tragedies also give birth to moments of hope, testimony that love still abides.
When we arrived at my home the driver gave me a hand getting out of the van. We spoke of blessings and promised prayers for each other. She reached out and we hugged goodbye. I asked her name. She said Angela. I think I had been speaking with an angel unaware.
Lightning zigzags flash
Lamp light shudders and goes dark
Midnight spectacle.
This morning when I went to church I was not handed the usual bulletin for the worship service. Following the events of the past week we were gathered to lament the acts of blind hatred and fear that have pierced our nation’s heart. Like spontaneous expressions of grief pictured in the daily newspapers and online we lit candles in silence, shed our tears, prayed and sang. A young black boy was sitting close to me. I wept to think of what his future might be just because of the color of his skin. I grieve for the soul of America. I’m thankful for a time to pray and cry with other people. And to feel a flickering of hope.