Poetry Month 2023 Poem-A-Day Post #30: “New Life/New Death”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. Today’s post is #30 and so my last of this series. Today is also my son’s 23rd birthday. I wrote this poem many years ago and it appears in my first book, Let the Bones Dance: Embodiment and the Body of Christ in my chapter on pregnancy. NEW LIFE/NEW DEATH There was an opening— a way in, but not all the way. It was all so natural. I knew. I knew. Confirmation. Heart beating. Elation. Each morning I woke enchanted by my body/proud/beautiful. I was the pregnant runner—full of life, not missing … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Post #29: “Mississippi”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. I wrote this poem after a trip to Mississippi after my mom’s death to visit the grave of my sister and my grandparents and great grandparents and cousins. And to honor my mom’s memory and the ancestors there. Mississippi You are not easy to get to long roads, live-oak concealed weeping canopies swaddling roads haunted by sweltering memories and days lost, family faded, jaded, dilapidated. You hold blood fables, moaning in starlight Homes built, lived in, died in The ruins of a faulty foundation. Echoes of sweet familiar, turns of phrase, … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Poem-A-Day Post #28: “Repenting”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. Yesterday I spent pretty much the entire day with people with whom I am in community who are doing the intentional, internal, and collective work of dismantling the pathologies and patterns of white culture. I wrote this poem last year around this time. This dance with repentance, reckoning, and transforming continues. Repenting Startled repentance Fed my soul Turning, rolling Churning, boiling That word holds Pregnant call Prescient pause You are not what you should be. Burning, troubling Purposeful learning Growing, knowing the world needs to change Repentance is turning around who … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Post #27: “PTSD”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and it is also #SexualAssaultAwareness month (I just found that out yesterday!).  So today I am combining my Poem-A-Day post to speak to both. I am a rape survivor. And someone who has chronic PTSD. I wrote this poem last summer. PTSD Mind racing. Stomach turning, churning, chest burning. Something is not ok. Brewing, chewing, stewing with it all. The disequilibrium. The dread. Thoughts darting, dipping in my head. What will he do with the softest parts of me? With the moments of truth? With the powers that be? I’ve exposed more than I ever thought I … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Post #26: “Estrogenesis”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. I wrote this poem in 2010. Now that I am through this stage of my life, I wonder how this deep embodied wisdom gets to speak truth these days. Maybe some menopause poems are on the horizon. The beautiful art is by Ani Rose Whaleswan called “Body Mandala” Estrogenesis A sweet fragrance speaking with sincerity A life-giving metaphor a spirit-filled guideline Estrogenesis is my new name for PMS–an estrogen driven new/re birth with labor pains and all to go with it The veil is lifted–a monthly personal apocalypse. life and death … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Post #25: “The Family Business”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. I wrote this poem as my sabbatical was coming to an end last summer. The Family Business Generational know-how coursing through my imagination about who I should be in the world. Work comes easy–so easy it can seem like it suits me. Like armor protecting me against overstepping or undue exposure to shame or impropriety. It seems harmless enough following in the footsteps of fathers. Even groundbreaking to be the first woman. But why do I want to step into these indentations left by men seeking after respectability and virtue in … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Post #24: “Present”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. Today’s post is one I wrote last summer. It settled into me how we are surrounded by a world where somethings put down roots (trees) and some things are always moving on (bird migration). Present A ghost of the beginning of time. Primordial memory, mist moving over mountains. Possibilities baptize void and vista. Two people look out from a porch on a hill. Searching, perched on the edge of unknown tomorrows, painful yesterdays, and a present impossible to describe. The world soaks in the night’s storm. Some still thirsty. Others saturated … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Post #23: “Rocks and Hard Places”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. I wrote this poem for my sermon today at Grace Covenant on the Emmaus Road. Rocks and Hard Places  A rock. And a hard place. Yes, church is a hard place. Especially when we lose track of the rock. The further we get from the rock, the harder of a place the church becomes. Rocks are solid, foundational, grounding. Rocks are the core, they are the floor. And in this faith tradition, the rock is the door. For Jesus followers, the rock is that stone rolled away from the tomb– the … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Poem-A-Day Post #22: “Rain”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. In honor of the rain fall today and in honor of the powerful rhythms of the earth ways of being, this is a poem I wrote last summer during a silent retreat at a lake during my sabbatical. Rain Rain falling on a screened porch Echoes of rain forests, deep mountain passageways, and places untouched by humans, all drinking in the storm.  Sleep inducing falling water from the sky heavy then light steady then fading, even forlorn.  Breezes and humid thunder distant flashes of lightning and all stand down until she … Read the full post

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Poetry Month 2023 Poem-A-Day Post #21: “Being Human”

April is #NationalPoetryMonth and I am posting a Poem-A-Day. Today’s post is a poem I wrote this past winter. Being Human To Be Human is to be made of ocean, star dust, and dirt To be human means living with natal memory of the razor’s edge, with anticipation of death. To be human is to be built to suffer and grow, yearn and despair. I am cells dividing and muscles that regenerate while I sleep. I am lungs with spider web veins moving oxygen from brain maze to toe nails. I am thoughts turning to poems and grief creating salt … Read the full post

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