Poetry Friday023


If

My ghost.

Image by vk-red via Flickr

If I maintain a calm composure no matter the circumstances
If my dog walks well on leash and
comes when called
If my children rise up and lead worship
obtain a minimum of 3.8 GPA and like learning
If my floors are swept clean
and my toilets are without rings
If I bake cookies and dinners from scratch
If I host gatherings
lead group studies
exercise my gifts and talents
and always have an open chair at our table
If my bible has tattered pages and
highlighted verses and sticky notes
If my vehicle is washed and waxed
and free from crumbs
If all my surfaces are dusted and
my floors dry mopped spot free
If I keep a fit body and mind
and dress appropriately for every situation
Will I be acceptable, lovable,
enough?

If I don’t admit to paying someone
to clean my bathrooms
or expose my thoughts of darkness and longing
If I don’t tell you about the time
I swore at my husband or how I
once slapped my child’s face
If you don’t see me speeding
or tossing an apple core
from my car window
If you don’t hear me yelling
If you never know about my past
mistakes, or current temptations
If I keep my blinds half drawn
and exercise my garage door opener
every day for quick entry and exits
If I keep my eyes down
and my mouth closed
Will I be perfect, enviable
safe?

If I line up my life
with ugly and pretty, somehow meshing
my shortfalls and what I say I believe
If my honest to goodness gut level

insides match my outsides

Then what?
What will I look like?
Living in the tension, who will I be?

1 If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. 2If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. 3-7If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love. 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 (The Message) For entire chapter, click here.

Poetry Friday 022


Work dough

Image via Wikipedia

My daily bread

I donned my apron, floured the pan,
wiped flour from my nose,
and in the pan I placed the dough,
then left it while it rose.

Soon yeast and warmth and time took hold
and swelled the dough times two,
it’s perfect plumpness telling me
that baking time was due.

The oven beeped it’s readiness
the temp. was right on track,
and so I placed the lovely dough
upon the middle rack.

The dough rose higher and higher still,
it’s aroma filled the air.
I dreamed of spreading fresh preserves
on thick warm bread, with care.

I dreamed, my hunger deepened
I planned great feasts in my head.
And all the while my hungry  heart
cried out for more than bread.

Then suddenly I smelled a smell
and realised with a shock,
that in my rush to bake my bread
I forgot the timer clock!

The oven door I opened
and there to my dismay
instead of bounty in my pan
was darkness and decay.

I looked again and shook my head
perplexed and in distress
for now I knew beyond a doubt
that I couldn’t eat this mess.

“Thou shalt not live by bread alone”
came unbidden to my mind.
And I thanked the Lord for burnt offerings
of bread and other kinds.

And then I sat and ate The Word,
and chewed on it awhile.
Digested and internalised
this bread did satisfy.