Poems & Musings

The Dance of Light and Darkness

in the beginning
God made darkness

dark was the water
in the formless void
and the Spirit hovered there
caressing the darkness
resting in silence
through eons untold . . .

The Well: a parable

“See,” comes a Voice from nowhere.

To open my eyes is to see where I am,
stuck at the bottom of a dark, damp well,
burdened down with all my petty and self-defensive strategies.

The Wetlands Park

In the dark stillness comes a chirp, a trill
And in the background always the low rumble and growl of the city
The sky gently lightens to misty aqua over glowing gold
The trees are black lace shadows
Birds and crickets coax the dawn . . .

The Stray Kitten

When I was a girl
I found a stray kitten
Feral and frightened
it ran and hid
and would not come
to my kitty-kitty calls . . .

More (4/4, Lifecycle)

an egg
buttery yellow
oval and intricately ridged
barely visible
but infused with the flow of life
its mother chose just the right leaf tender, moist, sunlit
then curved her tail
and prayerfully laid just one…

Butterfly (3/4, Lifecycle)

There is nothing so magical as the moment when a butterfly emerges from its chrysalis. I never get tired of it, and it never fails to bring a smile to my lips…

Chrysalis (2/4, Lifecycle)

“God calls the caterpillar to the cocoon.” That sentence came to me with the force of a revelation of special meaning. To most people it sounds odd, banal or silly, to others obvious. But to me it was a thunderbolt, a pronouncement that explained what was happening to me. It was in 2013(?), when I […]

Caterpillar (1/4, Lifecycle)

If you ask me, in the world of analogy, caterpillars get a bum rap. True, they do suffer by comparison with their flashy, post-metamorphosized selves, but let’s be fair. Caterpillars are fascinating in their own right. . .

Water Drop

from leaf tip
a single shining orb
rushes down towards
its twin rushing up
to merge and disappear
in still water . . .

God’s Big Book of Creation

When my kids were little, they were big fans of Richard Scary’s Best Word Book Ever, which we called simply, “The Big Book.” Weighing in at 1.5 pounds and 70 pages (an incredible size for a book written for 3- to 7-year-olds), the detailed illustrations in this hefty tome would keep them occupied for, well, if not literally hours, long periods for preschoolers! But today I want to talk about a different Big Book. . .

PLAYFULNESS (10/10, Blessing of the Trees)

I had not been studying spiritual direction long when my new spiritual director asked me what seemed to me a strange question. “What do you do for fun?” she asked. “Not much,” I responded. Even when I was a kid, at least from about middle school age, I was all about productivity. I used to get exasperated with schoolmates who sauntered leisurely down the hall between classes with their friends. My pace was always a brisk speedwalk, usually with an open book in my hands, trying to eek out a paragraph while searching for a narrow passage to get past the living speedbumps in my way. . .

HOSPITALITY (9/10, Blessing of the Trees)

A tree is not solitary organism — far from it! In addition to its connection to other trees through its root system, as described in a previous blog post, it provides homes and shelter to birds and animals, to insects, moss and lichen. It “lives intimately” with all kinds of other creatures and living things. . .

Morning Glory

a tubular shoot / tightly coiled / tense and closed / petals hoarding, protecting / something private / and oh so tender . . .

GROWTH (8/10, Blessing of the Trees)

As a recovering perfectionist, I understand something known in the study of human dysfunction as “unrelenting standards.” Someone with this schema, or deeply held belief or outlook, tends to see things as black or white, good or bad, the right way or the wrong way . . .

Walking the Edge of the Precipice

Only a few inches separated me from wide open air and a long, long way to the bottom of the canyon. No railing, no nothing. The void to my right, I kept leaning and veering to the rougher left shoulder of the path, which added to my feeling of the world being off kilter, to my doubting my sense of balance. . .


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