In a big blue Dodge pickup in front of me
I can see the back of his black baseball cap
Her blond ponytail swaying
He reaches over and tickles her neck
She squirms
I can’t see the smiles, can’t hear the giggles
But I feel it, I know
They lean together and apart
Moving like young people
Like young people in easy love
Then he runs a red light
poems
Privilege
[In memoriam: Sandra Annette Bland (February 7, 1987 – July 13, 2015)]
I can feel her
Doing what she can
To fight the depression
Defy the discouragement
Control the rage
She takes a job in southern Texas
Southern Texas! Saints preserve us
Almost there and she is pulled over
Pulled over for no good reason
And one bad one
Told to put out her cigarette
Her cigarette in her car
I can feel her
If I let it start, it will never stop
No, just no
I can feel her
Ordered
Threatened, grabbed, thrown down
I can feel her
Defiant
Protesting, screaming, crying
I can feel her
Scared
Then in a cell
Dead
I can feel her
Remember her
Mourn her
Though I am white
Every time. Every time
I change lanes without signaling
I think, “Sandra Bland”
And then,
“I am white though.”
How All Events Do Conspire
Arrowhead spruce
Pointed to pierce heaven
Frame a pyramid mountain
Enticing but unchosen
Not our destination
As we drive the gray road
We follow directions
With clear intent
We will stop at our friends’ home
But this world pays no attention
To our puny plans
God-made and human-made
Equally ignore us
Conspire to stop us
Fallen trees and power lines
Turn us back
Forcing a retreat
Driving through the Canadian Rockies
White snow
Bled from gray clouds
Onto black peaks
Golden larch and deep green spruce
Drip down from gray rock
Into pale yellow grass
Puddling in the valley
Where clear gentle rain
God’s grace
To this fire-threatened land
Falls
My Mary
An angel describes,
Passionately,
How great her son will be.
A teenager asks,
Sassily,
“Aren’t you forgetting one thing –
I’m a virgin.”
A mother speaks to her grown son,
Gives him THAT LOOK.
He sighs,
And takes care of the wine problem.
A woman stands erect and unmoving,
Defying Romans, Jews and grief itself,
To watch her son die a criminal.
The church statues?
No time for them.
The meek mild ever virgin?
No need for her.
Mary the impudent,
Mary the importunate,
Mary the brave,
She is my Mary.
What Counts
If time is what counts, then we have little left
Most of life is behind us
If money is what counts, then we have enough
Mostly we can do what we want
If friends are what counts, then we have a few
Good and close and cherished
If family is what counts, then we have complications
Some good, some bad, some indifferent
If faith is what counts, then we have doubt
Trying to worship a God we are not sure exists
If achievement is what counts, then we have satisfaction
Good careers behind us
If security is what counts, then we have an abundance
Because we live as middle class white Americans
If class is what counts, then we have risen
Above our parents’ class
If service is what counts, then we have opportunities
Every day, in small ways and larger
If love is what counts, then we have everything
Grains of Sand
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour…
William Blake
I.
“Perfect,”
she thought and,
swift as her thought,
she wadded up the bit of paper and
shot it across the table at her brother.
“That’s enough,”
warned their mother,
even as her brother
was wadding up his napkin.
II.
“Maybe”
She turned the piece of wood over in her hands,
considering.
But no.
It really wasn’t good for anything
but burning.
As she threw it onto the pile,
she thought of the bonfire that she would make
some autumn evening.
III.
“Useless”
She scrunched up the remnant in both hands,
for the trash.
But her hands,
paying no attention to her thoughts,
began to fold it.
Sighing,
she opened the old trunk,
already stuffed,
and added the remnant.
“As soon as I throw it away,
I will want it.
And it is so pretty.
Maybe someday it will be
a dress for a grandchild’s doll.”
IV.
“Incredible”
She laughed,
“It’s almost 10:00 and we’re still in bed.
I like being retired.
We’re like teenagers.
Now what would teenagers be doing in bed together?”
Much love and laughter and tenderness later,
“People probably look at us and say,
‘Oh, too bad they met so late in life.
They will have so little time together.’
But I feel like our time is wide and deep,
now and enough.”
V.
“???”
The thought came and slipped away.
A birthday party.
Where was her mother?
Someone asked her,
“Who was your best friend when you were a child?”
The form of the question confused her.
“My best friend is Ethel.”
Another question,
“Did Ethel live near you?”
Again,
she wondered at the form of the question,
“Ethel lives two doors down.”
Ah that thought again,
“I’m 92 today.”
Trinity
God “is at once infinite solitude (one nature) and perfect society (Three Persons).”
Thomas Merton
Trinity
Three in One
Father, Son, Holy Spirit
Trinity
One God
Three Persons
Trinity
Infinite solitude
Perfect society
Trinity
One word
to contain the inexhaustible
Trinity
One word
To surround the infinite
Trinity
One word
To approach the perfect
Maybe Love is a better Word
Sparks of thoughts
Bright trails of burning sparklers
The years behind
How many ahead
Do years bring
[wisdom, forgiveness, charity, gratitude]
Do years soften or harden
[hearts, minds, arteries, beliefs, bodies, souls]
I do not suffer fools gladly
And sometimes I think
Most people are fools
And sometimes I think
I am the biggest fool of all
Aftermath II
The wind is stilled
The earth is quiet
The fire is quenched
I hear the whispered questions
Who will love justice
Who will carry the burden of injustice
Who will know their own failings
Who will walk on troubled waters
Who will reach for My hand
When sinking with the weight of sin
With the exhaustion of trying
With the failure of understanding
Let me recognize
My privilege
My prejudice
My racism
My failures in love
Let me grasp God’s steadfast love for all
And enduring faithfulness to me. Amen
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