Struggling

So, I wrote a décima today. It’s been a while since I’ve shared one because Ronovan Writes has a Sijo challenge now, but here you go. It started out positive. I wrote the second and third lines first, inspired by a Bible verse (link goes to a different translation from the one I used but close enough 🙂 ). However, then I had An Afternoon.

I tried, people, I tried. -_-


There’s a crown of worth unfading:
For this I struggle and press on,
With Christ in me to make me strong
Into unknown waters wading.

Here come attacks aggravating
Already-strong onslaughts, keeping
Me laughably close to weeping,
No matter prayers and platitudes.
All of the strength that I’d accrued
Was used earlier – I’m sleeping.

person sleeping beside dead leaves
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Bonus! Here’s a shadorma I wrote this morning about trusting God, despite how hard it is. In the morning it felt possible. However, then I had An Afternoon.

path ahead
is obscurity —
but darkness
is not dark
for Someone. take a deep breath,
this must be trusted

So, when I first typed this up, I added an asterisk at the end:  *even if you are pissed at Him

I hope this isn’t like the video game Portal, where “the cake is a lie.” I feel like all the metaphorical cake in this world is not worth going through this over. and. over. again.

Yesterday, in the livestreamed rosary group that I’m still a part of (I have written about it before at some point), I wrote about some of my difficulty with depression / wanting to die, etc. and somebody told me to “seek the Lord.” Thankfully I stopped myself from actually typing back, “What a GREAT idea!! Wish I’d thought of that!” What do you think I’ve been doing? I mean, we had just gotten done with the rosary! AAAAARGH F***!

You Don't Say?

Thank you for reading my versified tantrum. I am assuming that you are reading. 🙂

Our Lady

Loss is part of your sorrow,
And you know that God has
Done marvels, Magnificat anima mea
You proclaim; may I echo.


I’m not sure exactly what prompted this but had wanted to write this acrostic for a few days and finally filled it in today.

The Feast of the Visitation | uCatholic

Renewal

For FOWC: Thrifty and MVB: Detergent, I wrote in a form called Juuichi (the Japanese word for 11), but I wrote 2 stanzas because one wasn’t enough. This is possibly cheating, but oh well. 🙂


Washed —
Not with detergent,
With Christ’s sacrifice,
With waters of
Baptism

But
Not thrifty pricing:
Blood and suffering
To bestow new
Life

religious artwork
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I Am Jealous of Saints Who Died Young

Today’s word for FOWC is “death.” I told myself, “Don’t go there, Jenna, especially since you’ve already posted today,” but here I am anyway, because it’s in my head already; I’m not going there if I already am there!

white skull on white wooden table
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

The poem is one I wrote yesterday. It was basically a stream-of-consciousness, but I think it turned out well, and it’s not even that sad. It’s not hopeless. But it’s so true: This is horrible of me to say, but I am incredibly jealous of those saints who got to die when they were, like, 23 (like St. Thérèse). In the last few years, I have sort of been aware: “Oh, I’ve lived longer than she did now. Oh, I outlived him now.”

The worst part is, sometimes I don’t even necessarily want to go to Heaven. What I mean is, sometimes it would be preferable to me if we just ceased to exist after we die. That’s what I used to think, but now, for better or for worse, I know that annihilation is not an option. If there are only 2 options, I’d rather go to the good place. 🙂



Hey, if I die at thirty-three
Like St. Faustina, that wouldn’t be
Too long to wait, would it, anymore?[*]
I have been so impatient. What’s in store
Is too scary for me, but what has been
The past 3 years is not entirely
Pain. Far from it. Tomorrow (Lord willing)
I’ll gain merit from persevering
Through grace, and that joy will serve
To erase all pain. Refrain
From worrying. One day will cease that sting.

[*] It would still be a few years. After lasting this long, though, who knows? Sometimes I wake up and am just flabbergasted that I survived all this shtuff.

Lifting

The writing part of my brain (which is most of my brain, at this point), has been active today, so I’ve got this reverse etheree to share. I might even post twice today — working on a poem that requires a bit of  research! 😀


Soul
Lifting:
Risen Christ
Opens Heaven,
Rejoice and be glad
To know this endless day,
Leaving no place for shadows.
Upward movement: dead live again,
Corruptibility having been
Restored to everlasting radiance.

white clouds and blue sky
Photo by Ithalu Dominguez on Pexels.com

Not Forfeited

For Fandango’s Flashback Friday, I am continuing to explore my poems from May 2019. I finally decided to share this one, from May 13th of that year. Not too dark. Enjoy. 🙂


The only way to not survive the fight
Is to give up; the spirit can’t be killed
But only ceded, so keep hope in sight:
It is not God who has destruction willed,
But satan lies in wait. Though he is skilled
Remember not to forfeit; watch and pray,
And God will give you victory today.

 

Bouquets of Roses

Woman
Clothed with the sun,
The moon under her feet,
And on her head a diadem:
Twelve stars

Mother
Of Christ’s body,
Praying for her children:
Let’s give her bouquets of roses
Today

Happy Mother’s Day!

Our Lady in Revelation 12:1 - "And a great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed in the sun ...

Difficulties

As of this moment, around 5 p.m. on Tuesday evening, I have 7 poems started today and space set aside for 2 or 3 others. How many are finished? Two. Yes, I often have difficulty finishing what I’ve started, especially in a timely manner! Most of my poetry is not elegant, but especially after 2 or 3 days I don’t care and just want to write something. Here’s a haiku (or senryu? maybe even zappai??) and a reverse etheree.



Heaven forever,
Soul lifted to this reward
One catch: No shortcuts.



So,
Tell me:
Is this the
Life-giving rain,
Little fall making
Flowers grow? Or is it
Opening of the floodgates —
Oh, I know, You promised not to
Send everlasting inundation
Again — none about other destruction.

black wooden door frame
Photo by ramy Kabalan on Pexels.com

The Smallest Glass of Love

“‘Oh.’ the priest said, ‘That’s another thing altogether — God is love. I don’t say the heart doesn’t feel a taste of it, but what a taste. The smallest glass of love mixed with a pint-pot of ditchwater. We wouldn’t recognize that love. It might even look like hate. It would be enough to scare us — God’s love. It set fire to a bush in the desert, didn’t it, and smashed open graves and set the dead walking in the dark. Oh, a man like me would run a mile to get away if he left that love around!


Another quotation from The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene, which I am still reading. For One-Liner Wednesday. I have read that one of the Church Fathers (I don’t remember who) said that the fire of God’s love is the same as the fire of hell. I don’t pretend to really understand that, but this quotation reminded me of that. Hell is eternal separation from God, and although it is terrible, I have read that those in hell do prefer it to being with God in heaven.

I’m not a theologian, though.

A Quiet Day Leads into Darkest Night

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is fantastic: to write a “curtal sonnet,” à la Gerard Manley Hopkins. The prompter explains, “A curtal sonnet has eleven lines, instead of the usual fourteen, and the last line is shorter than the ten that precede it.” I LOVE Hopkins! My words are completely irrelevant next to his immortal verse, but I’d be honored to try this. 😀 Okay, fangirling over!  Now, let’s see if I can write anything.


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