Holy Water

pitcher

I have a Baptist church pitcher of holy water on my counter

I don’t know how many Sunday’s it witnessed

(Can I get an amen, brothers and sisters?!),

but I celebrate the holy water it gives and they gave me.

The preacher arrived bearing a coffee cup filled with good will

opening their church home to me with an invitation

I accepted.

I didn’t accept because they were giving me something

I did, wanting to find a church home, with loving heart

Sunday arrived as did the parishioner to cart me to redemption

There I sat in a church so big, cold, overly puritanical

The ceilings dripped chandeliers over the congregation

I sat through the service where the nice people smiled nicely

I sat through bible study which didn’t feel much like home

I hugged while exchanging pleasantries

with a half-promise to return and a Baptist pitcher in hand.

About a week later, the pastor, accompanied by a scary believer

showed up just in time to help unload my chicken coop.

We shared our views where we sent one another away in love.

But I think of them every Sunday when I nurture my plants

as well as every night when I set the coffee pot with holy water

The Emotional Child

When you still wore stardust,

before you discovered this plane

When the galaxies danced at your whim or will

still then, nothing remained the same.

You wept when a planet was born or died

Your diamond tears descended as rain

Your divinity moving in and out the tides

Why then, my beloved, do you think these gifts arcane?

Now is the experience, like any other ride,

only now the power is that of indigenous hurricanes.

The Curtained Room

In a room with one window,

colorful curtains against the dim

holiness was born anew

as a breathy release prayed again

suspended between tender bruises,

indulgent heart, and reflections mirrored

in cultured ceremony, societal grieving,

a confusion of emotional hymns

sung toneless to the dim, enraptured heart

refused warmth or comfort, only respite

in a room with one window.

Eostre

On Easter, as a child,

I’d get strapped into conformity

To behave better than any other day

Because Jesus woke up from the dead

To make sure i presented pristine in white

Married to seasonal forgiveness

Hailing the rituals of ages old debt to the earth

Celebrating without sin; with damnation refused

Awaiting Beltane’s lustful repose to greet the blending turn

Historic Healing

The sugar cookie pink dogwood sprinkles bridal paths;

creating instant asphalt chapels.

The scent of innocence found in clover and black walnuts

admire the buttercups, grape hyacinths, and forget-me-nots

I inhale the pastel afternoon of 72 degrees, skirt weather

rising sun peeking the treetops looking for reflections

The yellow skin blanket warms the earth,

nurturing the robins, crows, and a fashionable pair of bluebirds.

In the dark margarine yellow window boxes,

purple pansies assort themselves presentably.

There are four square pillars looking like an estate;

updated but settled into a routine of security.

A squeal of young girls holding a picnic at the curbside

interacting by taking turns instead of having a leader.

They worked in tandem, familiar with their abilities.

A nap in a hammock sounds incredibly plausible, but

I return to the silence of a squeaky cat and gentle spirit

A Yard of Tennessee

The singing tree is abuzz with pollination

Beezus kneezus

They are tuned to lawn mower and cultivators of grand design

Twirtling whistles calling attractive charps.

I hear sky calling trills and thrills with a distant dog barker- carnival style

Deep fried in a crispy batter with enough calories to kill a small town faster than Walmart

Frogs are ritting and roting a love song to be begged generations long

Chattering bamboo charms cardinal directions hovering home

Guns ranged into collapsing sound; whips cracked precisely

S-s-s-s-sisserig rus-s-s-s-s-s-stling leaves and branches

Seabird seabird seabird bird bird trill

Barn Owl haunts the blue jays battle while carpenter beezus kneezus

Mourning dove calling sadly the droning plane cruising altitude

Rejoice!!

Leave your week behind
Come hold your love in faith
Ease your troubled mind
Come bless your hands with grace
Join hearts one to another
To raise your spirits high
Open up your life
To shine your holy light
Bright shining bright bright bright