Water Under the Bridge?

For the final prompt in the Imaginary Garden, we are revisiting some of the best prompts throughout the years. I chose to write (again) to Sanaa’s prompt about water. 


All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.

– Toni Morrison

 

If all water has a perfect memory,

And my body is 75% water,

Is my memory 75% perfect,

And 25% unsure?

 

My memory, gaslit,

Is imperfect yet legitimate:

My body remembers

What the mind can’t fathom

In depths of horror.

 

Is it water under the bridge?

Is it running through 75%

Of the same rivulets,

Memory trying to be made pure?

Rex Gentium

The King of all the people’s has come near,
Rex Gentium — this is the name we laud,
The name belonging only to our God,
Who tells us that we never need to fear
When His great scepter our life wholly guides.
To Him belong all power and control,
Authority and means to make us whole
And love, even when consolation hides.

The One come near can live inside of all
Who will to take upon themselves His yoke:
His yoke is easy and His burden light.

He comes to everyone who deigns to call,
To stoke the flame of love, and in grace soak:
Regard the precious infant born this night.


Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

An Abyss of Blessings

Today’s poem is inspired by the fact that, in the Catholic Church, today is the memorial of Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque. She lived from 1647 to 1690. I read this quotation from one of her letters this morning:

“This divine heart [of Christ] is an abyss of all blessings, and into it the poor should submerge all their needs. It is an abyss of joy in which all of us can immerse our sorrows. It is an abyss of lowliness to counteract our foolishness, an abyss of mercy for the wretched, an abyss of love to meet our every need.”

The quotation led to this poem.

“Abyss” is an unusual word
To use referring to what’s good;
Yet in this paradox is heard
A depth of wisdom. Ask this: “Could
The Lord allow something that seems
To be unloving to our eyes?”
Yes, out of darkness God redeems
The suffering, and can surprise
Our own hearts with what He creates.
So out of the abyss can soar
More happiness. The one who waits
With hope will see such joys outpour.

 

Note: Shared with Angie Trafford’s Writing Wednesday because I mentioned darkness. Also shared with DVerse OLN.

Two Sets

These are two quadrilles for DVerse quadrille Monday, and the word is “set.” I’m also linking to Fandango’s one-word prompt, cast.


The Play

Aspiring actors try out for the play,

The cast list is announced

The lines are slowly memorized,

And many sets are painted:

There are quirky many-dimensional

Characters, a complicated plot,

And unexpected places, as

Varied as life itself,

For “all the world’s a stage.”

 

The Glass Heart

Bruised and broken

(Not quite shattered)

One too many times,

She cradles like a baby

Her precious glass heart,

Sets it on a countertop

Display — but that’s not the way

Hearts need to be treated.

Not only looked at

(Not quite shattered)

But cherished.

 

Mocha Ice Cream With Peanut Butter

brings me back to my childhood —

not because I indulged in this flavor back then

(I didn’t even think of it

as indulging,

just eating) —

but because I loved ice cream, innocent

and happy.

And it didn’t matter if ice cream loved me

back —

The situation is much more, much too

complicated now.


I wrote this poem a few weeks ago and am sharing it for the first time with Jade’s prompt for DVerse Poetics about food. There is so much I could write on this topic. By the way, if you’ve never tried peanut butter on top of ice cream, you should try it; it’s my favorite! 

Thou hast out of Thy plenitude…

I wrote this poem earlier today and am sharing it with DVerse’s open link night


Thou hast out of Thy plenitude enriched
The soul which seekest Thine abundant light:
Thou strengthenest the soul which wants to fight
For holiness, and battle wounds are stitched
And healed with Thine o’erflowing love,
Perhaps they leave a scar but without pain.
The soul agrees, to live is Christ, death gain —
And even Thou hast nail-scarred hands above.