Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Category: Haiku/Poetry

March 18, 2017

bleak building revisited

Who would have guessed this photo and my haiku would lead to bigtime self-reflection? For those who missed it, here’s the haiku–a comment on the photo above.

massive bleak building
harbors untold histories –
I quicken my pace

From the day I laid eyes on the photo, it freaked me out. I didn’t want to look at it; yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

It wasn’t just the building’s condition, it was its size. Looking at it, I felt small and helpless, as though I’d wandered into a nightmare that was closing in on me.

Yet the more I looked at the building, the less afraid I was. I noticed renovations on the adjoining building, clotheslines, and a carpet hanging over the balcony rail. Also how close neighbors were to each other.

When I wrote the last line of the haiku I wasn’t sure what I meant. Was I speeding up to get past the building, or was I quickening my pace to get closer? Perhaps to discover clues about the families who lived there, and what happened to bring about massive abandonment of these apartments.

I don’t have answers to any of that. Nor do I know in what city or country this bleak building stands. I do, however, know I’m drawn to it, especially at this time of my life.

These days I’m thinking about end of life issues. Not because I have a terminal disease, but because I’m terminal as the woman I now am. Figuratively as well as literally.

I don’t want to keep mopping up the now defunct quarters passed on to me by my parents and their parents. Especially quarters that served to reinforce ways I was shamed and blamed a thousand times over.

No way.

Yet some of this is still housed in my female body, soul and emotions. No, it doesn’t torment me now the way it did in the past. It does, however, come back to haunt me from time to time. Seeping up through the cracks. A looming presence that erupts when I freak out—as I fall over the cliff yet again into panic, anxiety, and the urge to fight back against anyone and everything.

I’ve spent years identifying and letting go of pieces of my past and my desire to change it. It’s been a life-changing reclamation project. A project that began in my childhood, despite what was beaten into me in a misguided effort to beat things out of me.

What would it be like to live as though that never happened? I’ll never know. Not in this life.

I do, however, know there were and are things no one can ever beat out of me. Things I love. Things that make me happy. Things that bring me joy and peace. Things that connect me to my Creator and to my family and neighbors. Things no one can beat out of me no matter how diligently or brutally they try.

I also know there are gems in that old building. They’re waiting for me to discover and own them. Treasures I don’t yet know belong to me. Parts of life envisioned for me by my Creator who knows and longs to give me my true name.

So yes, I’m quickening my pace as I move forward into unexplored territory and beyond.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 March 2017
Photo found at pixabay.com
WordPress Daily Prompt: Massive

5 Comments
March 16, 2017

bleak building

massive bleak building
harbors untold histories –
I quicken my pace

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 March 2017
Photo found at pixabay.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Massive

13 Comments
March 9, 2017

If ever we meet

If ever we meet
I will milk
every drop
and then some
from your demeanor
tone of voice
and eyes 

Agonizing
Calculating
Weighing the odds
Whether to respond
and how 

Experience—
my best friend
and my enemy
Trust—
a roll of the dice
until proven over time 

I shiver inside
Is it worth the effort
at this age
putting myself out there
in full view
of myself
not just of you? 

*** 

The agony of being attentive to nuance—not a characteristic I willfully chose, but a survival skill I learned on the ground. It served me well, though it didn’t always deliver the safety I sought or the safety I was promised. 

My trust of another human being isn’t a gift to be given on demand. It’s a reward to be earned over time. Giving away unearned trust is not a sign of approval. It’s a gamble that often leads to sorrow if not disaster. One of the most difficult lessons of my life.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 March 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Nuance 

3 Comments
March 6, 2017

between worlds

dreams-angela-bacon-kidwell

drifting away
her mind hovers
between worlds
a spectator unwilling
she rests on her bed
captive to images
of a dying day

a silent cacophony of
bizarre semi-reality
emerges into
semi-conscious
scenarios never
seen again

precursors of sleep
they swarm
in disarray
bits and pieces
of the day
descending
into unconscious
oblivion

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 6 March 2017
Photo found at raisa-b-h.blogspot.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Swarm

10 Comments
March 4, 2017

God rolls the dice

wu-spring-in-linz-austria-haggiaustria-on-28-feb-2017

God rolls the dice
with each new birth
A gamble taken
in good faith

If you cherish this little one
might not my beloved earth
be visited come spring
with lavender from sea to sea?

A roll of the dice and
the Master’s plan
Lift up your eyes
and feast on beauty

Persistent repetitive
tenacious beauty
bursting with fragile joy
upon giving birth

***

I know. Sadly, not all the little ones make it, and not all little ones are conceived in good faith. Yet God keeps faith with us each spring, in each season of life. Always giving us another opportunity to nurture the ground, the good earth, the vulnerable child who may become a link in this fragile chain we call life.

Which brings three questions to mind. Am I willing to bet on God? And beyond that, do I realize God is betting on me? Not on me alone, yet on me as one part of the whole. Finally, do I know how to nurture the vulnerable child in you or in me? Food for thought.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 March 2017
Photo found at the Weather Underground App
Spring crocus in Linz, Austria taken by haggiaustria, 28 Feb 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Parlay

8 Comments
March 1, 2017

Hesitating

her eyes
scan
each faded
page

past
and future
clash
reluctant

time
runs out
wistful
she sighs

remembers
what
she had
forgotten

sees more
than
decades
before

maybe….
what if….
must I
now?

shadows
creep
toward
sunset

closing
each book
not ordained
to stay

she turns it
sideways
spine up
pages down

***

During the last several weeks, D and I (more D than I) have been weeding our home library yet again. Only this time it’s different. We’re retired. In our 70s. Not going back there again.

Our collection, well over 9,000 (yes, D keeps a record!), has been our 3rd ‘child’ since we married each other and our book collections in 1965. It grew exponentially with each new degree and each new teaching and administrative opportunity.

The most important item in any house we’ve purchased has been wall space. We’ve had bookshelves on every floor and in most rooms. Since 1983, when we moved to the Philadelphia area, we’ve put rows of them on our home-made shelves up and down our full length finished attic. Our decorating scheme has been simple: Books!

Not just professional and academic books, but collections for children, adult novels, biographies, poetry, mystery series, science fiction, philosophy, art history, music books, travel books, encyclopedias, foreign language books, world religion books, Calvin and Hobbes cartoons and Winnie the Pooh!

Big sigh. Letting go is, for me, rather emotional. These are my friends! My companions on a long journey! Just looking through them reminds me of the many wonderful women and men I’ve met along my journey—as classmates, as professors, as students and as colleagues.

Letting go has taken decades—first hundreds of books, then our first 1000, and now I can’t even count. Yes, we’re keeping some—can’t go cold turkey on everything. Have we read all of them? No. But I can say with certainty we’ve used or read most of them over our combined academic years. We’re book-worms from the inside out.

So here’s a fond farewell to the latest haul—now over 100 boxed books stacked neatly in our garage waiting for pickup by a book service that sends books like ours to majority world theological schools.

Here’s an impromptu proverb for today: She who hesitates today will regret it tomorrow (when she has to go through the same old books again)!

Yours in sickness, in health and in between!
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 March 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Hesitate

11 Comments
February 27, 2017

the wellspring

wellspring-16204276

calm steady source
releasing life from within
home of all being

***

Center of my being
My true home
Place where I am most fully alive

Not found by striving
but by letting go
of fear, apprehension, ambition

Dive in! Fall in! Sink in!
Don’t calculate the distance
Or when I might re-emerge

A small death
Repeated thousands of times
Finding my life by losing it

Thoughts generated by a favorite book on the practice of prayer, Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening, by Cynthia Bourgeault. Her approach to prayer appeals to the mystic in me while keeping my feet on solid ground and connected to Christian faith and theology. Not a small feat.

Here’s to a week of centering practices that help us rest and work while seeking peace with justice. No matter what or who waits for us around the next corner.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 February 2017
Photo found at Dreamstime.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Center

4 Comments
February 25, 2017

purple carpets

crocus-carpet-at-longwood2-mvg222-blogspot-com

purple carpet waves
soft lavender on cold ground
golden eyes twinkle

***

I’m just back from a morning walk through my neighborhood. Birdsong filling the air, lazy sounds on near-deserted streets, sun bright, cool air breezy, and several lovely carpets of crocus.

My eyes filled with tears, and I recalled one of my favorite college choir choral pieces. It seems fitting for this time of year and this time in world history. The words come from Isaiah’s vision of arid ground blossoming and flourishing in every possible way. Spoken not when things were going well, but when they were going downhill at breakneck speed.

I’m heartened by these words. Encouraged not to give up, but to keep my eyes and my heart focused on what matters most. And, like Isaiah, willing and able to stand before God and speak truth to corrupt power. Isaiah’s vision comes as a stark contrast to the corruption he spoke against and lived with day and night. It’s a promise to each of us who’s willing to listen, live through and with the hard times, do what we can and must, and keep our eyes on God’s larger picture. God has not forgotten us or rainbows.

Isaiah 35:1 (New International Version)

The desert and the parched land will be glad;
    the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
    it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy….

Praying you’ll have an encouraging, revitalizing Sabbath rest.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 February 2017
Photo found at mvg222.blogspot.com; taken at Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Arid

13 Comments
February 22, 2017

evensong

wu-look-to-the-stars-bayshore-ny

no two alike
nature’s stately rhythms
offer evensong

***

stars and clouds emerge
against warm rays of a dying day
wind currents crisscross the heavens
swaying trees and fence genuflect
nature listens alert
dry grassy ground waits,
invites me into
the presence of my Maker

 © Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 February 2017
Photo found at Weather Underground – taken in Bayshore, New York
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Rhythmic

21 Comments
February 17, 2017

fermented wine

pxby-white-flower-spring

life flows through her veins
fermented wine of past dreams
melts my eyes

***

This week was high-jacked. Not by force, but by my desire to spend time with our adult daughter. Her visit coincided with my husband’s determination to get rid of unnumbered books from our academic collection. Most stored on shelves in our large attic.

Deep in the attic, behind multiple shelves of books, he uncovered a mother lode. All belonging to our daughter. Boxes full of school papers, reports, works of a budding artist (she’s a graphic artist as well as a musician), stuffed animals, posters, programs, correspondence, and other memorabilia I’d saved for her.

This week she sat in our relatively small den surrounded by boxes, going through each item. Laughing, sighing, reminiscing, showing and telling, sorting and sifting for keepers. Of which there were an abundance. A paper trail that told the story of her life.

Unexpectedly, the paper trail confirmed the nature and content of our daughter’s character, and the trajectory of her life as an artistic type. Her life has had its ups and downs, and it wasn’t always clear how things would turn out. Or whether our parenting of her–especially mine as her mother–had helped, hindered, or encouraged her.

Thankfully, going through this treasure trove did more than confirm her nature, giftedness, determination and joyful creativity. It also gave me assurance I didn’t know I was looking for until I found it this week. I always wondered whether my mothering helped or hurt her.

I’m an expert on what I think I did wrong as her mother. I found out, though, that what I got 100% right was so simple I didn’t even know I was doing it. I kept boxes for each of our two children. Into each box I put anything I thought they might enjoy seeing when they were older. It was that simple!

Given my personality, I erred on the side of putting in too much material instead of too little. Before dropping it in, I penciled on the back of each paper item our daughter’s name, age and a brief note about when or where the item originated.

Tears, laughter, memories, hoots and hollers of recognition — all that and more because of those old pieces of paper that capture in vivid detail our daughter’s personality, creativity, and musicality. She is a strikingly beautiful forest flower–grown up now as her own wild woman.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 February 2017
Photo found at Pixabay.com

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Juicy

11 Comments