Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity to accept...
... that the sun will set tonight and come up in the morning
... that January will be cold and July will be hot
... that the wind will blow in March
... that there will be people who don't like me - for no reason
... that there will be terrorists
... that planes will crash
... that people will die
... and that people will live
... that planes will deliver them to visit their loved ones
... that there will be peace makers
... that there will be people who love me dearly - for no reason
... that kites will fly in March
... that January will bring icicles July will bring fireworks
... that the sun will set tonight and come up in the morning

God grant me the strength...
... to bring hope to children in Mexico and mothers in Africa
... to bring healing to a child in Memphis, Tennessee
... to bring love to my friends at home
... to bring acceptance to the gasoline station attendant from Afghanistan
... to offer a smile to the bank teller
... to offer a day to help build someone a home
... to offer a pint of my blood
... to light a candle
... to shake a hand
... to say a prayer

God grant me the wisdom...
... to not dwell on the things I can't do.
This will only leave me feeling helpless,
steal away my time and energy,
and rob me of the chance to do the things I can.

God help me search earnestly for the things that I can do,
with strength and confidence and optimism,
so that I might know where to light candles and say prayers,
so that I might open doors to which I have keys,
and not grieve doors that I can't enter.

I Know a Jordan New

I know a Jordan new
logically tracing a path
around rock and boulder
in accordance with laws
of fluid dynamics
and gravity

step by step

year by year

steadily marching
from the abundance
of a Galilean Sea

I know a Jordan new
unbiased intermediary
between cross, ark, and crescent
playing softly while Jacob sleeps
powerfully yielding to Joshua
dancing wildly
around faces submerged by John

I know a Jordan new
composer of promise
with bands of angels
comin' after thee
flowing strongly on both banks
equally to all sons of Abraham

Through days of war
and milliseconds of peace
Jordan moves
in disciplined sync
rhythm intent
steady beat
from mountaintop to sea

I know a Jordan new
dutifully obeying logic
of gravity's pull
seeking unreasonable answers
to predict
the soul's current

I know a Jordan new
hungrily yearning
for a map of more
than traditional landmarks
for the soul's direction

I know a Jordan new
meandering gently
balancing mind and heart
with one singular goal
to serve life-giving water
to the least of these

Expect More

I expect
flesh and bones
and other earthly things
are restricted
to formality
and front doors.

Should someone knock
for directions
or delivery
I'd know no spirit there.

I'd have no expectations.
Spirits and souls
need not knock
I expect.
Their friendly arrival
whispers through keyholes
slips through the hinges
and turns
the deadest bolt.

I hadn't expected you.

The door was locked
and barricaded,
but you drifted into my field of view.
you took a seat by the fire,
inserting yourself deftly

willowy
ethereal
with spirited charm.

You cast your spell
and claimed yourself
a long-lost page of music
named yourself
a work of art
framed humble.

You called yourself
Soulmate.

Eager and entranced,
I could not resist
expecting.

Hoping
that you were the spirit you claimed to be
the soul sent to dance
to revel
in the miracle
of heavenly discourse.

My heart stirred
when you rested there,
and in the fireplace
the smoky flame burned brighter.

Just as surely as dawn follows dusk
I'd been waiting and expecting
wonders miracles hope and you.

Are you so accomplished at trickery
that you'd prefer to fool me
than to be the sister spirit
I'd been promised to expect?

I refuse to believe
I expected too much.

And yet you say you expected nothing from me.

As if it weren't bad enough
that in the midst of holy conversation
you'd refuse to allow me
to hold you in the high esteem
of a soulmate,
expected,
dreamed of
and prayed for.

You would not have me expect
that you could love me.

You would not have me expect
that our meeting was meant to heal us both.

And,
worst of all,
you expected nothing from me.

I thought you were an answer to a prayer,
and you expected nothing.

I hoped we'd lift one another up, but you expected nothing.

You got so much more than you'd expected

Light

I raise you to the Light

A Light so strong
that He can bend His rays
around you
and illuminate you

A Light so clear
that She can penetrate
the layers heavily curtained
transforming burlap
into lace

I raise you to the Light
that spears your heart
burns your tongue
courses through
your blood
with such sun, moon, starlight
that shadows flee
from the path ahead
and lag behind
until they lose your trail

Be ye enlightened, friend

Raise your sapphire eyes
and allow each of their facets
to catch a piece of Holy
to basque in wretched wonder
to bathe in quiet peace
and to reflect
for all with strength to see.

Let your tearful beacon eyes
reveal the light of hope
burning white hot
within you.

symphony unfinished

What happened to the music
that played between us
wind, string, percussion rich?

Didn't we sense the spirit conducting the song?

Wasn't there a clean and precise drum beat
keeping our pace synchronous

trumpets freeing consciousness
from the need for words

flutes playing in and out of each measure
providing us freedom and frame
for trusting and giving and listening and taking

strings and adagios
weighless
dancing
fearless
jumping
no less
boundless

Wasn't that the tune you heard?

intoxicatingly safe
a symphony of thoughts
without orchestral limits

jazz at it's best
rythmn above count
melody transcending key

a tune that faded to pianisimo
begging me as listener to lean forward

and then resuming in perfect time
memorable enough for me to hum along
yet fresh enough each day
to prompt me to incline eagerly toward the movement

I revelled most in six eight time
marvelled at how it was expressed
and re-expressed
two beats to each measure
or three
or six
sounding similar
feeling new
urgently seeking a beat
any beat
waltz-march-gallop-run

I chased the syncopation
focused intently on the beat
tapped my toe to keep it
immersed myself
in the harmony
without being aware
of how caught up in the song
I'd become

The music fell silent
not a whisper
not a pause

breaths held
hands suspended
I turn to the conductor

was His baton still raised?

No.

The podium stands empty.

Looking Glass

years forward
cobwebs cleared from tarnished mirrors
hand-poured glass over gray-silver
provides partial view of what I know I knew
a distorted reflection
covered in layers of dust undisturbed
wrapped haphazardly in spiderwebs
long since abandoned

safe and patient
wise listeners
weeping friends
soft embraces gently tug away
spider webs
that tied memory to place
to sound
to touch

unbiased, unafraid, unflinching counselor
wipes clean
thick dust like powdered ash
without fear of charred residue marking her hand
she wisks clean the glass on silver
and with chosen words
stern
simple
clear and confident
she directs my eyes to the reflecting glass

how frightening to bring this darkness into day
how can I be made certain
that to focus on this image
won't transport me to that moment
when my mind created dust
ash
cobweb
for the single purpose of survival

the answer is
if nothing else
as weak in reassurance
as it is strong in hope

take a look at the image
in the mirror
and believe

wavy, warped, mis-shapen
as old mirror glass can get
when the gravity of all that seeks to reshape it
overshadows
underemphasizes
convex overblown
and concave understabilized

this distortion typified the image I beheld
small threats were magnified
sources of safety, hidden
nothing rational or logical or sensible
or smart
could be revealed
and addressed
and explained

until reality was wielded
by making straight and sharp
each surface
and of course
by choosing
to look
at the image

my greatest fear
is of my own reaction
to the puzzle
as it is solved

What Have I Done

From the security of my own ash heap
I heard your cry
and assumed it was your reaching
from the security of your own
rubble, debris, refuse
for my words
ear
touch

I spoke without filtering
every thought
every sentiment
not taking any time
to brush off dirt and ashes
not being careful
oh my God
not being careful enough
with my own heart
I listened intently
or so I thought
but in my eagerness to serve you
to heal you
to console you
to comfort you
I finished your sentences
I filled spaces you might
have revealed

had I waited

and my spirit
awake, attentive
stirring within my heart
rushed to find you

without even pausing for practical thought
without using words to announce
or listening for invitation
my being
skin on flesh on bone
physical driven by emotional
my very self
all of me
hurled forward
to seek you out and find you

something strong
wanted deeply to see your face
to tap away tears
to offer shoulder, hand
just to brush away
your sadness
and deliver comfort

as eager as I was
to be attentive
I somehow failed to pay
close attention

for the gate around your own trash heap
which was surely open
when you called out
began to close quickly
when I announced my approach

for some reason you fear my approach

how ridiculous of me to push
with such intensity
while at the same time
baring my heart
which could only
have frightened you
more

and so now
only minutes
from rising out of ashes
brushing myself off
sending words of comfort
half-listening
(that's where I must have erred most)
and running towards
the sound of your voice

I must return
with only the memory
of my words and yours
hands still reaching
in your direction

this pile of ashes
is so much dirtier
and drearier
having taken time away
and now returning