Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Category: Haiku/Poetry

A word is dead

Another short gem from Emily Dickinson, for children of all ages and all stations in life. My free verse response follows.

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

Emily Dickinson: Poetry for Young People
Edited by Frances Schoonmaker Bolin
Illustrated by Chi Chung
Sterling Publishing Co., 1994

Words spoken
thought
given away
on faces
in body language
live and multiply—
shaping us
shaping them
into people
we are
or are not
together

Spoken words
birth attitudes
expectations
hope and despair
inextricably linked
in this short life

Not the answer
to our wildest dreams

Not a solution
for the world’s woes
or private sorrows

But like smiles—
small change
of treasure
received
or withheld

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 June 2017
Image found at twimg.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Create

caught unawares

caught unawares
poised between heaven and earth
pilgrims journey home

When will the sun set?
Who will return tomorrow?
Will the bridge remain?

steady footsteps
drum softly in fading light
glowing with promise

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 June 2017
Photo found at pixabay.com – Burmese Foot Bridge at Sunset
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Revelation

Reduction of persons

Reduction of persons
into friends and enemies
betrays small vision
driven by fear

Snap judgments
drive compulsive sorting
of good versus everyone else

Diminishing circles of friends
birth expanding circles of enemies

Profiling writ large
defaces our common humanity

Vain attempts to maintain control
over an imagined world
guarantee nothing–
not even my survival
at the cost of yours

***

With thanks to the Oxford English Dictionary for its entry on ‘uniform’ as a verb. Here’s a choice quotation from the July 1887 edition of Harper’s Magazine: “It is a human device to uniform people into friends and enemies.”

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 June 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Uniform

Disappeared

Disappeared
without a trace
comes home to haunt us

Dis-membered
lives and bodies broken
past yet present

Suppressed
roots of our
current discontent

We don’t have to accept this state of denial. It leaves traces that scream to be heard. We are a multicultural nation.

We don’t all agree that this is a proud heritage. Nonetheless, not once in my upbringing or schooling did anyone introduce me to the full history of multicultural America, the so-called United States. We seemed content with stylized stories that perhaps told part, but not nearly enough of the truth.

The seminary in which I taught and served as dean had a proudly diverse student body, faculty and staff. Yet every time there was a national racial incident (Rodney King, for example), I was reminded of how much I didn’t know or understand.

During my last year at the seminary, I was part of a small faculty group that piloted a way to work together on issues of race and multicultural differences. We took up-front time coming to agreement about how to be safe within our diverse group. Then we got to work, doing with each other the personal and group work that might be done across our campus and institutional structures.

One of the most riveting books we read was A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America. It’s now out in an expanded, updated edition. The author Ronald Takaki, was born and raised in the USA. His ancestors came from Japan, and he looks Japanese. And yet…he was still considered an outsider.

Takaki’s well-documented book begins with American Indians, before the so-called discovery of this country. From there, he traces the chronological history of multicultural America to the present.

This is the American History I was never taught in school. Takaki packs it with data, stories, photos, archived news articles, and astute insights into why we are diverse, and how each group was received into these United States. He also has a vision for what we might learn from this history about our future as a thriving multicultural nation.

We’ve forgotten our roots. We’ve suppressed them and found ways to cope with or rewrite the truth about our past. We’ve done this in public and private, newscasts, corporations, universities, neighborhoods, families, churches and communities of faith, and in our educational system—to name a few. Textbook wars are still fought to keep certain voices from seeing the light of day.

Sadly, this approach suppresses the truth about brave women, men and children who found and still find ways to work together against our national habit of creating insiders and outsiders.

What kind of future do we want for our country? What would it take to get from here to there?

For starters, you might read this book. You might find yourself in it. Or, if you’d like a shorter, equally riveting edition, there’s an edition for young people. Same title, with well-documented stories and photos. Both books are difficult to put down.

Add it to your reading list!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 May 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Trace

early Spring splendor

early Spring splendor
fills chilled air with blossoms–
garden seat beckons

***

For one of my followers who wants to know where the garden seats are in Longwood Gardens. There are many–which I’m now collecting from my photo albums. This particular bench has always been one of my favorites–at the end of the flower walk, often in the shade, always off the beaten path.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 May 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, March 2016 at Longwood Gardens
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Infuse

Letting go my desire for survival

I’m missing the routines
that keep me steady
and grounded.

Living moment to moment—
So happy to be with her again,
my daughter.

A little off-balance in my daily life—
Grateful for a quiet mid-day
so I can write, eat, be with myself and rest.

The rain has stopped and the sky is brighter.
Still feeling the edge of cold damp air
on my hands, legs and torso—
Wore my wool undershirt today
and flannel-lined jeans.

I want to mother her—
The thought of end-of-life stuff
gives extra meaning and urgency to our visits.

Have I been faithful to her?
Always such a distance to travel
for such a small bit of time.

Is it time to practice letting go—for good?
Whatever that means—
I’m not sure.

I’ve never done this before.
Neither has she—
So many unknowns.

It’s hard to see through tears.

Just being alone for a few hours in this house
feels sad—too empty,
too quiet.

What will it be when she isn’t here—
Or when I’m not here?….

***

I wrote this journal entry during a recent week-long visit with our daughter and her husband. Our first visit with them since I learned I have Chronic Kidney Disease. Surprisingly, the words sing to me–sweetly and sadly. No rushed or distressed cadence. Just the leading edge of a reality unknown to me as a mother.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 May 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Survive

impressions of yesterday

1963 Aug Elouise Double Exposure flipped

impressions of yesterday
captured by accident
a remarkable mistake
turned into a keepsake
hopes and dreams
yet to be realized
outer signs of internal graces
made strong through
the tempering heat
of life lived wide awake
in person and together
the beauty of two souls
bound together in one image

The photo was taken by a friend. We were at Tybee Island Beach near Savannah, Georgia. D had just taken the photo of me with the old roller rink in the background. He forgot to advance the film before our friend took a photo of us together. So we ended up with this dream-like double exposure.

The day was momentous. This was only minutes before D proposed to me as we walked down the beach. If it had been today, I might have proposed to him many months earlier. But that was then—August 1963, weeks before D left for the West Coast, and a year before I graduated from college. I was almost 20 years old.

Don’t miss the prices on the side of the pavilion. You can have a good laugh at how ‘cheap’ things were back then. The pavilion, with its roller rink, is long gone—doomed because of building code upgrades. A good thing, yet looking at this double exposure makes me long a bit for the good old days.

Impressions only? I don’t think so. Memories are dear, and now make up the majority of my lived world. They also capture reality—along with a healthy dose of nostalgia.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 May 2017
Double exposure taken by DAF and a friend, Aug 1963
Response to Daily Prompt: Impression

Tension mounts

Tension mounts
Beneath the surface
Begging for relief

Tendons tighten
Their nervous grip
On control mechanisms

The outer world shrinks
Lost in a cacophony
Of competing systems

Internal air congregates
Propels itself outward
In one long sigh of relief

Tension drains
Tendons relax
Outer world returns

***

Today’s Daily Prompt, catapult, calls to mind military weapons. Devices that deliver death and destruction. I prefer the catapult of my own deep breathing. It delivers life and relaxation, as many times a day as needed.

This more life-giving image seems appropriate at this time in history. It seems we have too many catapulting machines and tongues out there, and too few deep global, regional or community breaths to bring us back to our senses.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 May 2017
Image found at quora.com

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Catapult

rippling waters

rippling waters
lit by setting sun
carry me home

***

I can’t decide whether I’m drifting toward or away from the shore. No matter. The light reminds me I’m not alone and that my final destination will be as mysterious as this shining city.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 May 2017
Photo found at pixabay, Norway Sunset
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Adrift

from a nearby tree

from a nearby tree
a catbird sends waves of song
spilling to the ground

Have you ever heard a catbird? If so, you already know their song is unmistakable. Loud, almost hyper mimics, they punctuate their unending songs with sharp ‘catcalls.’ Sort of like the sharp ‘meow’ of a cat. Unlike other mimics (thrushes or mockingbirds), they don’t usually repeat their songs.

We hear them every day. Especially now, when birds are nesting and nests need defending. They crank up their musical contributions before sunrise, and continue past sunset. We heard one yesterday evening when we went out walking. It was perched in a tree just above our heads, well past sunset.

Catbirds don’t seem worried about running out of songs. Instead, they’re worried if you come too close to a nearby nest. When that happens, they aren’t shy about dive-bombing around your head, descending from a nearby thicket to cajole you into leaving the area. They don’t give up, and they aren’t bashful.

God doesn’t swoop down from heaven to defend us or to scare intruders away. Still, there’s something god-like in a common catbird’s defense of its nest and determination to frighten off or redirect the attention of possible intruders.

My real-life intruders are often discouragement, fear or loneliness. Sometimes God descends to my aid when I listen to music I love and let it fill the airwaves, spilling into my heart and tense body. A sign that majesty and power are present in ways I don’t understand.

This doesn’t solve my problems. It simply makes things bearable, and invites me to relax, knowing I’m never out of the range of God’s care. I think another way of naming it is Sabbath rest.

Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 May 2017
YouTube video found on Google

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Descend