Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Aging Bodies

Dust of the earth

This body
Like my heart
A house of Your creation
Stands ready to greet a stranger
Whose form and visage
is unexpected

Lost
Dust of the earth
Sorrowful yet not without hope
She stands
Waiting

I found this scrap of a poem in one of my old journals from two years ago. It makes more sense today than it did back then. In May 2016 the strangers were my broken heart and jaw, along with my face reflected in the mirror. A face I scarcely recognized.

I’ve been thinking about Psalm 23 this past week. Especially this line: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

I still believe the enemies are my enemies, not necessarily God’s enemies. And I still believe I’m invited to join the table with those who are my enemies, or seem enemy-like to me.

Nonetheless, last week I got thinking about aging, and the way these health and well-being strangers keep showing up at my front door. So I’ve reluctantly expanded ‘my enemies’ to include them.

This means I’m learning to receive them as strangers, and listen to what they have to say. Perhaps we can one day be friends. Or at least acquaintances?

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 May 2018
Photo found at islamforchristians.com

Her bespoke face

Her bespoke face
Betrayed no provenance
No signature or style
Save those life etched within each line
each scar and curve of chin and cheek 

No sign of props placed here and there
To hold it all in space
No awkward look or heavy paint
To dazzle or illuminate
Just a canvas standing there
With pleasant eyes of burning depth
and mouth with upturned corners 

Quite suddenly she smiled at me
And said hello-how-are-you?
One of a kind I see – said I –
With hat tipped to my Maker.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 December 2016
Response to Daily Prompt: Bespoke
See definition of bespoke here.

Curtains | #2

Curtains closing, 1280px-Radio_City_Music_Hall_Stage_Curtain_1

It’s Wednesday morning, about 7:15am. I’ve just walked into the prep room where I’m shown to my bed. I see several other beds in this busy room, each with so-called privacy curtains.

#2
Curtains close around Act One
I’m alone with my heart and one large plastic bag
The beginning of Act Two

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crude hieroglyphs

P1050699

crude hieroglyphs
embedded in aging beech–
terrain of a life

* * *

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