We’ve lost our way –
Or never found it
Bitter bargains struck
Trust betrayed
Loyalties unexamined
Bodies scorned
Contempt exalted
Rage rewarded
Fear ignited
Self promoted
Spoils of a winning war
Good Shepherd, have mercy on us all.
Amen
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 November 2016
Cold
Tired
Watching first-class people
Get first-class service
In rows
Directly in front of me
Listening
To weary discontent
In my heart Read the rest of this entry »
My heart
Beats poetry
Words fail
When music stops
I die inside
Does God sing for me?
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 November 2016
Photo credit: DAFraser, July 2016, Rhine River
Cormorant taking off in early morning light
~~~A woman free of her heavy load, trusting.
I can’t stop thinking about my dream, Life Rearranged. Especially the part about that awkward load I was carrying around. It wasn’t even in a bag. I was carrying it in my hands and over my arm. The way I carry folded and unfolded laundry upstairs to put it away. Read the rest of this entry »
My dream, right before waking this morning:
I’ve just arrived at the home of a woman I met somewhere but don’t yet know. She invited me to come and see her. I brought along a few things to show her and talk about—though she didn’t say exactly why she wanted me to visit. Read the rest of this entry »
Over the years I’ve accumulated piles of building blocks. Like old Legos. Pieces of my life. Some dusty and forgotten. Some I wish I could forget. Others I want to treasure forever.
Maybe someday I’ll discover Read the rest of this entry »
I hate the word ‘banned’
My father was the King of Bans
My life as a child was ruled by Bans
My father’s list of Thou shalt Nots
conveniently fenced me in
and robbed evil of its hate-filled power
Wrong!
A thousand times wrong!
The wrong on the tip of my tongue
The wrong in the imaginations of my heart
The wrong in my never-delivered tirades
The wrong my father, and then I did to my body and soul
Haunts me seven decades later
I’m a Queen
though not by succession
I sometimes proclaim myself Queen
Crown myself and decide for myself
What I will and will not do or say
In the secret places of my mind and heart
from which I banned my father
I hereby proclaim myself Queen for a Day
And designate my personal bans for this day–
The 103rd anniversary of my deceased father’s birth
I hereby ban
self-neglect of my female body and soul
that minimizes its need to be respected and cared for
as a gift entrusted to me by God
I hereby ban
All assumptions about my father
Including whether he would or would not
accept my forgiveness
Finally, I hereby ban
Any shred of fear or self-righteousness
That keeps me from opening my heart
to God’s overwhelming love and acceptance of me.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 October 2016
Photo of my father, maternal grandfather, mother and me, 1943/44
WordPress Daily Prompt: Banned
Stars over Lake Irene, Rocky Mountain National Park, Erik Stensland Photo
For over a month I’ve been going back to this poem from Emily Dickinson, trying to figure it out. Sometimes I think I get it. Other times I feel like giving up. My comments follow.
The Outer – from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude –
‘Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood –The fine – unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel –
Though Spokes – spin – more conspicuous
And fling a dust – the while.The Inner – paints the Outer –
The Brush without the Hand –
Its Picture publishes – precise –
As is the inner Brand –On fine – Arterial Canvas –
A Cheek – perchance a Brow –
The Star’s whole Secret – in the Lake –
Eyes were not meant to know.c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
The first few times I read this poem I wanted it to say something like this: Read the rest of this entry »
Salt of the earth
Gone underground
Difficult to sow
Backbreaking to harvest
Millions of them
Grains of sand
Galaxies in the sky
Drops in the sea
Uncounted millions
Tossed aside
Trampled on
Taken for granted
Overlooked and underestimated
Our hope for the future
When we’re willing to plough
The good earth
Bend over backwards
Shed a few tears
Get our hands grimy—
No small potato left behind
From One Small Potato to Millions of Others
With Love, Hope, Vision
and Gratitude for the Faithful
Who refused to leave me behind.
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 October 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Millions
Photo of grimy small potatoes found at agannex.com
The very first exercise my physical therapist assigned me was simple. Keep your tongue on the roof of your mouth at all times, except when you’re eating, talking or swallowing. Who would have thought this small change would produce a moment of enlightenment?
Well, it did. That’s because I’m also learning to notice when my tongue wanders from its designated parking space. Here’s how it happened. Read the rest of this entry »
