Call of Gift

Mother God, benefactor of all that is holy.

You have led us to this place together as a community and bound us to one another through faith.

In the beginning of this Advent season, may we remember your unexpected appearance among us in the birth of a child.

You make yourself known to us again and again but we sometimes are deaf and blind to you. Help us to clear our ears and open our eyes to your word

God of Peace, whose ways are not our own and whose coming among us cannot be predicted, we dare to welcome your surprises, seeking to be awake and alert, and to fully embrace the unexpected. That we might be changed by your appearance and transformed into loving vessels with radical acceptance.

Now let us feel your presence as we live as you taught us and pray as you taught us: Lord’s Prayer

My Daily Communion

At the edge of my bed,

I sit next to my altar,

Head bowed to read the labels

I begin my prayer of good health

Body: To omeprazole, Atorvastatin, Effexor, naproxen, trazodone, prazosin.

I eat the blood from my hands

Offering up body parts

To the lowest bidder at the highest cost

Blood:

And here I stab myself with sugary revelation

I used to pep talk myself

That tomorrow will be another

Just a little pinch

Asks:

Shaking hands fearful heart

Panicked requests

Just every day without justice

We fight in the sewers and streets

Our blood runs on emergency room sheets

Save us! Redeem us! Grant us life!

But their god makes them blind

To badges of regrettable illness or injury

Umbilically attached to our wrists

Half a handcuff for only falling ill

A paper sign with handwritten letters OUT OF SERVICE tacked to your record

When I’m dead

“I have not died. I am not dead. As long as you remember me and tell my stories, I will be immortal. I am one with you now. I am the energy you need to get through this. I am the power that warms the sun. I am the winds that blow through your hair. I am the very water that you drink. We are all moving together through this Universe, one journey at a time and I have not forgotten your love for me. You are my voice now, but I will speak though your acts of kindness and love, acceptance and encouragement. I have not died. I am not dead. I am now as the breath of God.”

Autumn painting

Where once the grass is flooded green

now the colors changed the scene

the sky is gray the air is chill

the flowers no longer on my windowsill

Queen Anne’s Lace or dead daisies smiling

thistle spurned their purple beguiling.

The cornflowers nod their tired heads

getting ready for Winters bed

Goldenrod has turned to Green

to match the seasons changing scene

Fairy circles closing ranks

singing hymns of praise and thanks

Blessed am I to shiver the chill

As autumnal turns the spinning wheel

Altercation

I sat on my porch watching the day pass.

Down the street, in a white picket yard,

anger forces an acrimonious rise in volume.

A part of me wanted to call the police to restore order

But my privilege allowed me to snapshot and assess.

Clearly they were having difficulty communicating,

But that doesn’t mean they deserve to die

because they want to feel heard. Temperature cooled

Like air conditioned souls validating the issues.

I hate that my racist thought got afraid first

Reason correcting my reaction. Guilt, shame, sorrow.

I breathe deeply the breath of their frustration blowing

Volcanos and whispers with wide gesticulations and relaxed stances

I want to be raw like that when I become angry

But I have an unreasonable amount of anxiety

That leaves my outrage in my back pocket, hidden from view.

I wish them peace as I retreat into my home.

Where It Belongs

Why aren’t you angry

With the violating men?

Why have you allowed them a free pass

For desecrating your whole-iness

You are not angry enough

That they thieved your essence,

Your inner light.

They shaded your shine.

Find your power

Call your magic home

Become the warrior

Disallow the worrier

Direct the fire where it belongs

Burn those fuckers down

To irrelevant ashes.

You’re important enough

To take care of you.

Self Deception

Where is your anger, lady?

Where does it bloom?

When did you take it out last?

To play with it?

Nurture it?

Trust the pain and process of it?

Love it as your breath and body.

Adore it for the heat it brings

Breathe it down the spiral

Until you can accept letting it go