Prescribed Prairie Burns
The last day of April brings the end of National Poetry Month, so I want to share a poem with you today. These words, and the accompanying image, emerged from a recent walk at the Decorah Community Prairie. I couldn’t……
Category: Poetry
Joy
I carried the weight of her
lament
until the trail invited my
full attention
and the gentle trees
illumined by brilliant sun
freed my hands to hold
joy
Scars
What hollowed you?
What emptied you from the inside out?
Who are you now? A spent self?
Can hope live in ashes?
Can joy grow from emptiness?
Can God raise the dead?
Birdsong Alleluia
If the snow were any match
for the strength of April’s sun…
If the sky weren’t endless blue,
clouds undone and on the run…
If the love that lifts us all
weren’t already on the ground—
grace incarnate, mercy’s deed,
flowing river winding round,
pulsing with the truth I’ve seen
and sung
countless times before,
always when it seems an end
what is real is something more:
rainbow arc from pulsing rain
brilliant bloom from blank decay
life from vestiges of grief
hope from endless shades of grey…
…then birdsong alleluia
would have gone unheard today.
I’d have knelt at the altar of despair
and left my offering there.
Instead I raise my newfound voice
with cardinal and robin,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise the God of resurrection!
The Poetry of Holy Week
In honor of World Poetry Day, and in anticipation of Holy Week, I offer you this poem I wrote last year. I. Introduction It’s almost too much The depth of human experience In the course of just a few……
Decompress
When the breath you’ve been holding rushes in, releasing all that binds…
let the water-worn rocks smooth your spirit
let the birdsong lift your fears away
let the lake harbor peace
let the trees bear grace
let the cold rain carry you home.
Free
A voice beckons beyond the ceaseless striving,
singing in the splashing falls and the lapping waves:
“I ground the brave trees that sprout from hard rock;
I steady you in the spaces you inhabit.
Is it fear, or pride, that makes you cling?
No need, my dear one.
Let go. You’re free.”
Portage Pace
Smooth sailing retreats to a distant memory,
and you trade weightlessness for ache
Ache that forges a round trip loop
from your heart
to your feet
with each pounding beat.
There’s no shortcut through grief,
nor mile markers to note progress
Only this narrow, winding trail…
…where the breeze still finds your face
…and the pine needles cushion your way
…and the trees (messengers of grace)
guard your heart until you reach
flowing waters once more.
Lost
I was lost today
On a familiar path
For the briefest of moments
Lost
Beholden to the trees
Bathed in autumn beauty
Instead of to the well-worn path
And I wasn’t fearful
For the briefest of moments
I was free
Outside the Lines
When orderly rows no longer suffice
When the pattern constrains
the routine, the rote, the expected
Then make of me, oh God, a wildflower
maybe even a weed
(what is the difference? perspective?)
Spent, but not done
freed by Spirited wind
beauty scattered, held aloft
nimble and curious
Rising again outside the lines