Friday, April 2, 2021

they didn't know

 

 

 
The holiest of days today.  
Good Friday.
It's hard to breathe.  
Words do not come easily. 
 
It was the third hour when they nailed him to the cross. 

From the sixth to the ninth hour 
an inexplicable darkness covered the land.
Jesus cried out with a loud voice,
 
"My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"

What do you do with an awful loss . . . 
ripping apart . . .
feeling forsaken . . .
Is there not amazement, in experiencing great loss,
that life around you is going on . . .
that everyone is not stopped in their tracks?

Does it not show on the face, 
in the eyes . . .
the rapid heartbeat, 
the sweaty palms;
emotions swirl and eddy.

On that Friday the sun stopped shining.
God turned His back.
Jesus forsaken.
Hung there on the cross.

It was evident in their faces; 
his loved ones,
hovering nearby, bent low with grief.  
Weeping.
Mary, his mother.  Her sister.  
John, his best friend and others.
Sorrow beyond words.  Confusion and hurt.  
Death and darkness.
Life had been forever altered.
 
They didn't know that was the plan.
From the beginning.
 
But today, we know.  
It was always the plan.
Restoration, redemption, 
reconciliation, 
to bring back, to repair.
 
Around the ninth hour, 
Jesus bowed his head and gave us his spirit. 
 
Saying, "It is finished."

The words hung there too.

For the religious leaders,
the Roman guard,
the enemy of this world,
Jesus' loved ones and us today.

It is finished.

The most astonishing gift the world has ever seen.
 
That he would die in our place.

Life is forever altered.

Does it not stop us in our tracks . . .
Show on our face . . .

. . . are we amazed




 

Saturday, March 6, 2021

A croissants and eclairs kind of morning

 

 

awakening
today
on a saturday
and somehow
unlike other days
for someone never usually
remembering 
most of the time
 
dreams that is
 
this time
this morning
 
in the early fog
somewhere between
sleep and consciousness
 
a pastry shoppe
filling the dream space 
with all the noise
and commotion 
and old world charm
of France
 
aromas of coffee
and pastry sweetness
conversations on surround
tables full
the hustle bustle
of the old painted door 
opening and
closing steadily
oops here comes another
newspapers spread
laptops 
and linen bags  
 
the murmuring of early
as friends meet
as orders are announced
as patrons leave
with arms full
 
the daily of this
taken for granted
 
but for me
standing there 
mesmerized
eyes wide

beyond the glass
croissants and eclairs
madeleines
covered in hazelnut
the macarons
lined up
like spring tulips
in the field

butter cookes
and lace cookies
and the little signs
describing
other goodness
never before seen

requiring a simple point
and a nod
to purchase

and now wondering
what was chosen

and then
how in the world
to stay there

but morning calling
and dreams tossed
like the covers

only a sweet beckoning
remaining
 
and thinking of the day
like a pastry shoppe
in France
 
there is so much
to choose
that is good

today

 

Monday, February 1, 2021

a love affair



what is it about a monday 
the first of any week 
or the first of any month 
beckoning 
with opportunity 
a fresh slate to write upon

for me
a love affair
coming together as they do
today

tearing back the covers
pulling up the shade
peering out to see
newness

but for the briefest
of moments
disappointment flooding

exquisite fresh snow
of yesterday
thick on tree limbs
blanketing the landscape
now gone
driven rain falling sideways
determined to outdo
and erase 
what was celebrated
just a day ago

but undeterred 
reminded
frozen beauty suspended
by just a degree or two
dividing yesterday
from today

and in the turning of the page
feelings bursting forth
the picture outside my window
cannot erase

because today 
starting afresh
the weather reminding
just a degree of change
can make all the difference

so here on a monday
this new day
a new month
stealing the thunder
taking the grayness of winter away
for starting over

a clean page
on which to live 
to right the ship
to start again

for failure can nip at our heels

but we always
always
have a choice 
all of us

and for me
a new day and a new month
beckoning