Posted in Poems

A Donkey’s Tale

“Beast of burden” has been my name

My home uncharted, the wild terrain

Sure-footed, though some think me slow

I tread in places they cannot go

And bear their weights upon my back

Sparing strength, where others lack

For the poorer among the nations

The only feasible transportation

From season to season, and place to place

I carry their burdens, and do so with grace.

But all loads are not equal, as you will soon know.

Like that of a woman, some long years ago –

And a boy, in her womb, in the cart behind me

To lighten their journey, the maker assigned me

Into a town, my task to bring

In shrouded form, the highest King.

Her trial to bear, though mine to share

Against the backdrop of poverty, pain,

Oppression, confusion, and fear, he came

Bringing light to the darkest places

The night sky, a manger, forgotten faces

Of blue-collared shepherds, and then the likes

Of me,

Who stomps among the dikes.

For the greatest must be the servant of all,

He said, while breaking his body like bread

And spilling his blood upon the ground

And sifting the earth for those to be found

And taking the sins of the people who slew him

Transforming the lives of all who knew him

Similarities stop, between he and I

At an earlier point, but isn’t it sly…

Of all the beasts of the field, which he owns

He would bring honor to something so low

As a donkey, like me – two times, no less

Once to his birth, and once to his death

I carried the man who died on the wood:

“Beast of burden,” like me. He understood.

Many thanks to The Carillon, my local paper, for putting my poem in print!

For the inspiration behind this poem, please visit my earlier post, “A Beast of Burden.”

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Warm wishes,

Lisa

Posted in Poems

Water of Life

“Healing waters”

So it has been written

Warmly lapping around my arms

Rocking, lulling

Steady, decisive

Knowledge whispered

Covering wounds

A paper thin layer

The waves are small

To not reopen

The damage

 

“Be mindful, to whom you open the door

Lest you invite further strikes.

Who you are is good.

Who you are is good.”

 

It’s time to stop

Slashing myself

With insults, with thoughts

His words are

Life to me

Like water for

A shrinking soul

“There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells.”

Psalms 46:4 NIV

Posted in Poems

Warmth of May

Press pause

Let’s stay

Where we are safe

Warmth of May’s breath surrounds

My children, in their beds.

 

Full bellies, a game, and someone to share with

Small things are large

And large things are small.

Could this be, perhaps,

The better time?

Will I long, some day, to be back here again?

 

Press pause, let’s stay.

I want what I have.

Behind us, a trail:

Idyllic, then torn

By chaos and strife;

I tremble to place

My two feet forward

Fear, incited

By terrors now stilled.

 

In the night, in the warmth,

In the sweetness of May

I smell your Spirit

Hanging here

I’ll shield my eyes

And cling to you

For You, I know,

When I know nothing else.

 

Press pause,

Let’s stay

Where we are safe

The scent of your Spirit

Hanging here

I want what I have

In warmth of May

Posted in Poems

Hindsight’s 20/40

((Today’s “Friday Ramble” is less of a ramble, and more of a poem.  I had some metaphors and words rolling around in my head, and thought they would fit better this way.  I love the succinctness of poetry!))

 

Looking back, I see shapes

And not the little details

Overall trends, and in-the-ends

While finer lines have blurred

 

The way I was raised,

How others behaved,

Near misses and near hits.

My own mistakes, humility

Driving me to this:

 

Losing my vision, forgetting the things

That put me on my high horse

Far-sighted eyes, the gift of age

Compromise, to set the stage

For “West from East,”

Far side of the sea –

Forgiveness, they say.

The very best way.

 

A little bit blind

A lot forgetful

Far sighted, and deaf, and possibly dumb

After it all, I’m thankful

 

What about you?  As you get older, do you find yourself losing your hearing, vision, or memory – literally or metaphorically?  Is it becoming easier or harder to forgive?  I would love to hear your ideas in the comments section below.

Warm wishes,

Lisa