Psalm 16

I've been on a kind of roller coaster this semester, especially the past few weeks. God always seems to put the right words in the right place at the right time. In His Word we rest secure.

Psalm 16

“Keep me safe, O God,

for in you I take refuge.

I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord;

apart from you I have no good thing.”

As for the saints who are in the land,

they are the glorious ones in whome is all my delight.

The sorrows of those will increase

who run after other gods,

I will not pour out their libations of blood

or take up their names on my lips.

Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;

you have made my lot secure.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance.

I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;

even at night my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me.

Because he is at my right hand,

I will not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad and my toungue rejoices;

my body also will rest secure,

because you will not abandon me to the grave,

nor will you let your Holy One see decay.

You have made known to me the path of life;

you will fill me with joy in your presence,

with eternal pleasures at your right hand."

First Fall

It has been a long while since I've posted... too long. July completely escaped me, and August is about to do the same. I confess I have not kept up on my poetry (on or off this blog) as I would have liked... I give you these words to usher in the Fall and the many changes that come with it...

First Fall

The tree outside my window has begun to change,

its red face turned to the new sun,

the rest looking west

remembering summer.

I knew him when he was small,

and he knew me,

the little one trudging the yard

    in search of Easter eggs or a favorite kitten.

And then I grew up on the other side of the house.

This is our first Fall together,

and I will have to leave him for other trees,

trees that say little to me but "We are here."

I'll return when his branches are bare

    and the shadow he casts has atrophied to a whisper.

He will wake me,

and we will remember.

free

(the portions in quotation marks are taken from a poem by my best friend.)

“barefoot and crazy

but mostly free,”

i discuss with myself

the me that i wish i still knew.

she was contemplative, focused—

i am scatterbrained and distracted.

she was innocent, graceful—

i am worn and bear witness,

self-conscious and uneasy.

a battleground between confidence and self-doubt,

between soaking it all in and articulating the beauty before me,

between knowing what i have learned to know, and learning what i’m told i should.

my mind wanders with my feet to the field,

to distant memories brought close by the familiar sounds

and sights of home.

the sun keeps his promise

to rise and set as he did when we were children,

but now the grass grows shorter

and in different places,

my secret places gone or changed.

i try to fit regardless, and i find only mild satisfaction.

what is this desire?

i scold myself for hiding here,

for waiting as the days pass, as the light drifts

and looks in on me in my quietude.

have i abandoned freedom for fear?

(this question has changed me…)

for fear that i must keep my freedom?

that it is somehow i who must portion off some days to be free

and others to be full, filled by obligations and “the rest”?

we cannot live as we once did,

and yet we must.

we cannot forget the feeling of dirt and sand and grass and stone beneath our feet.

“we are free, to the same extent we are fearless.”

they are bound up in each other,

the freedom to fly and the fear of the fall.

they direct our steps,

sometimes careful, sometimes reckless.

both can result in injury,

one results in joy despite pain.

in my hands, in my feet

i remember beauty the way it should be.

“barefoot, be free.”

Imagine

I believe that a person must always hold on to her imagination. No matter where she goes or when she gets there, she must always see beauty in the things around her and be reminded that her world is, at least in part, what she would make of it. I think one is blessed with a better imagination if she believes that the Creator is the source of all of these beautiful things. And with faith in Him, she may also see and acknowledge that this beauty has been tainted. Imagination encompasses more than beauty. Indeed the fear and pain and sorry of the world contriute to its greatness as well as does the majesty of life. May we ever lok with both eyes open.

be still, my soul

i thought about it as we sang those words...
the thought that it is actually my soul that keeps me still
under the cross of grief or pain,
rather than encouragement from me
that keeps her sane.
and these words came...

a conversation with my soul

she sings out in hymns of praise
and it is the glow of the glory of God
that she brings to my face.
she is mine,
and my salvation is found in the fact that we hold fast
to the love of Christ.
oh faith!
oh soul!
the echoes of the waves upon the walls--
notes struck,
notes bowed,
heads bowed and voices lifted to our God...

internal shouts burst forth,
she cannot be contained;
for love she knows,
by love she's owned,
and here that love is named:

ah dearest Jesus.
Lord, abide with us.
your hands have bled,
your words have fed
our hearts and heav'nly hopes.


she is passionate
and she cries when she sees the Lord behind closed eyes,
imagines his feet coming towards her,
she looks down,
she lies down,
but here she's lifted up.
everything that is gentle and good in the world
is here.

"I am the good shepherd.
the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."

though in the dark,
she can't make out his face,
she thinks of white,
of warmth,
of song and light and grace.
and she cries when she sees the Lord behind closed eyes...


open them.
she tells me like it's easy.
open them
and see before you

"... the Sun of life divine
through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine."

"you are too beautiful to be broken," she said to me.

"i break every day...

i am beautiful because 

someone keeps putting me back together."

Job 5:18

picture by lauraisakitten

rain, rain don't go away

i am all kinds of aimless fury inside.

where can it go?

where can i go?

summer

my mother used to put dried flowers in my hair
just like these…

that is summer in my mind sometimes.

photo by Amy Longberry

sometimes

sometimes i forget that you haven’t known me all my life,

that you never knew the little girl

that became a not-so-little girl

that became this young woman you call friend.

sometimes i remember what never was

because today is something that i never imagined.

sometimes i forget that i have to tell you about myself for you to find out

what’s in there.

sometimes my past catches up and my present wants to step aside.

sometimes my present catches up and i just want to go back.

it is strange for me to think that you have made assumptions

about me,

but i suppose we all have our suppositions.

i feel i know you where the rain meets the leaves,

whatever that means,

and though i am so familiar,

you don’t know what to think

sometimes.

in with the arms...

by loney dear

in with the dark nights,

in with the weighed down clouds

suburbs and stations,

long range trains coming in

how can you manage?

how can you bear me now?

coming in fast, bringing the lights

keeping me calm, keeping me calm like you do

i’m tearing us down,

how can you do?

keeping me down…

in with the trains rushing through the lands

in with the aeroplanes,

breaking through heavy nights

where does it go?

when does it sleep again?

off with the devils,

off with the devils…

keeping me calm, keeping me calm like you do

i love you. i love you

keeping me calm…

in with the trains, rushing like blood to my limbs

come over dance with me,

come on over dance with me

in with the warmth, in with the comfort to me,

citadel band play for me, citadel band play for me

keeping me calm, keeping me calm like you do

i love you. i love you.

off with the boards,

off with what’s keeping me down,

in with the arms,

in with what’s keeping me calm,

i cannot go, i cannot do

in with the arms

in with what’s keeping me calm

i cannot go, i cannot do

i love you. i love you.

in with the arms,

in with whats keeping me calm…

autobiography, of sorts

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.” Psalm 139:14

She has had a direction without realizing it,
or rather, articulating it.
For years,
a purpose, a motivation.
Humbly she seeks to capture that,
to shape it before her eyes so that you can see too,
so that she knows where she’s going.
“Fearfully and wonderfully made,” she says to herself,
and the words “full well” swell up on her tongue,
spilling over gracefully as she writes them down.
The words on the page draw her in
and push her out—
in asking questions,
out with new ideas—
She is intrigued by the concept of concrete words
representing abstract thought...
To do with myself what is right for such a creation.
To do with myself what is right.

Like an old film reel clicking away on a screen before an empty room
so her memories come.
Full of glad faces,
a wholesome childhood,
good feet to walk and stand upon.
“Do you regret?” you wonder.
“No, I cannot,” she replies.
“Sometimes, it hurts…
But so does the sand that rubs against me when I swim in the ocean.”
Her voice is soft—not quiet, soft.
One has had a successful journey when she can look back and see
she would not have gone any other way.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you and watch over you.” Psalm 32:8

She learned from Christian teachers
to put one foot in front of the other
to move forward,
never sideways.
To appreciate beauty,
and to create it.
She did well, which bothered her at times.
Not quite good enough…
but by whose standards?
Finally, “It is not how you are doing,” someone seemed to say,
“but what you are doing.”
And a tattered road sign appeared to her right:
Keep Going.

“I guide you in the way of wisdom and lead you along straight paths.
When you walk, your steps will not be hampered;
when you run, you will not stumble.” Proverbs 4:11-12

A dream awoke her:
“Do not be afraid,” she heard him say.
She cannot shake it, and she is not afraid.
What is it to be wise, she wondered.
Wisdom is not the mere absence of fear,
but the practice of discretion and compassion.
With a spark of this, she took the bend in the road,
which led her away from home
toward another one…
Crossing borders internal and external,
invisible and plain,
the lines of the road formed one solid streak as they passed by…

“Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” Colossians 4:5-6

Here, we catch up with her.
It is strange, but she has felt like the outsider
looking in, attempting to find words to fit where she is,
to ask and answer the questions.
She has always wanted to give words
and her love for them—
not simply the letters, but the way they form a partnership,
a definition.
“Do you see how they connect us?” She is excited.
You can see her chewing on your words,
absorbing your inquisition and throwing back strings of thought.
You challenge her,
and you watch the edges of her eyes settle into a squint
as though she’s trying to cradle the thoughts just a little longer.
They’re not ready,
but they will be.
“Make the most of every opportunity…”
This means the journey is slow,
but to take it faster would be a mistake.

On the way, the way home,
she sees their faces,
those talented minds between youth and adulthood.
She calls them to come along for a year—
maybe less, maybe more—
Where? Where are we going?

If you have to ask, I can tell you only this:
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path”
On our way home.

Psalm 139:1-18, 23-24

For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.

O LORD, you have searched me

     and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

     you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

     you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue

     you know it completely, O LORD.

You hem me in--behind and before;

     you have laid your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

     too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?

     Where can I flee from you presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

     if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

     if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

     your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me

     and the light become night around me,"

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

     the night will shine like the day,

     for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;

     you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

     your works are wonderful,

     I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

     when I was made in the secret place.

     When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.

     All the days ordained for me

     were written in your book

     before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

     How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,

     they would outnumber the grains of sand.

     When I awake,

     I am still with you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

     test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

     and lead me in the way everlasting.

down

a morning of masks and disguises—
each sound that comes from my mouth to them
at odds with a shapeless weight my shoulders bear.
what is it?
a glance, a despairing feeling, and we look down at our feet.
still down, my eyes go to the sky, to the sun.
it was golden when i awoke
and now warm, melting winter bit by bit,
but still i stand before a shadow,
always between the sun and my shadow…
they see me as usual,
but i am the shadow today.

silent night

she has been thinking many things,

many kinds of thoughts,

like the face of the moon--

some illuminated, some forever in darkness

or like snow falling--

in seemingly slow motion,

gentle, careful...

(but given wind it is fierce, 
it is powerful)

like holding your breath under water--

survival. and you hear the sounds around you, muffled.

you see the light and shadows.

you are immersed in almostwarmth

and it fills you with solitary pleasure

and panic

all at once.

you want to hold on, to stay under,

just a little longer...

like looking at your hands in the dishwater--

feeling decades older,

feeling like you're looking back at a full and happy life...

i want you to burst through the door right now

and look in my eyes.

i want you to read this in my eyes.

somehow, they are written there,

the years that have not yet been.

every real thing,

every beautiful thing...

this is why she stays in silence for so long--

all this going on...

all this going on...

heard it today...

"you should not be so wanting. 
you are flying in the face of God..."

(photograph by me on the way to England...)

amazing life

amazing life

we've been given

i know that you've had some troubles

i have had some troubles

we've been wasted

we've been complacent

we've given in to getting through the days

i hear the doves

singing in the trees

they call the dusk

tell us not to sleep

the coming dark

can't hide what we can see

can't hide what we can see

the algebra

of innocence

is lost in the bathroom mirrors

practiced born and steady

been complacent

we've been bad neighbors

we've been unfaithful in our prime age

to open up to see what happens next

to see our hearts

to risk breaking our necks

to chop it down

to follow there against

so we'll be young again

amazing world

the ground that gives

i know that you've had some troubles

i have had some troubles

we've been wasted

we've been complacent

we've given in to getting through the days

i saw a star

fall from a green sky

i saw you laugh

your eyes were open wide

i saw your skin

uncovered in the night

uncovered in the night

-matt pond pa

please hold

i see the side of his face best now,

his conversation drawn elsewhere,

and i listen to the low murmur of the crowd,

the mingling of people,

their voices echoing distantly.

i see the smiles,

greeting and bidding farewell--

kind, genuine, and beautiful.

i am at his side, on his arm, in his company

while he exchanges words and laughter with those he knows and loves,

those who are quickly filling my heart as well.

i smile too, glistening like a jewel on his crown...

but he knows i am more,

and he looks at me knowingly.

we are surrounded by lights and sound,

moving in slow motion

past mouths hindered by some invisible force.

a golden thread frames his figure as he stands against the light,

his own mouth moving slowly.

i am the silent audience of this inexplicable and pleasant upheaval of reality...

--in an instant it enveloped me,

and in an instant it was gone.--

i hear the click,

and his voice comes back across the line,

apologizing for the interruption.

i let escape a joyful grin

whose origin he can only nearly guess--

the picture in the silence.