Welcome to the Abbey's 50th Poetry Party!
I select an image and suggest a theme/title and invite you to respond with your poems or other reflections. Scroll down and add your responses in the comments section below. Feel free to take your poem in any direction and then post the image and invitation on your blog (if you have one) and encourage others to come join the party! (permission is granted to reprint the image if a link is provided back to this post)
On Friday, March 18th, I will draw a name at random from the participants and send the winner a copy of Sacred Poetry: An Invitation to Write
The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing.
-Isaiah 35:1-2
We have only begun our Lenten journey through the desert, that place of parched barrenness, and yet in my small corner of the world spring is beginning to emerge. My favorite spectacle is when the cherry blossom trees begin to explode with pink petals. I am here, deep in the desert with its call to strip away all that is not essential. I am here, deep in the heart of a world calling me to blossom. They may feel like paradoxical calls, and yet when I live both fully I find that each nourishes the other.
When I release all that no longer serves my journey – old stories, beliefs, judgments, expectations, and things – I make more spaciousness within me for the new life of spring to have its power. When I embrace the call of this season to say an exuberant sacred yes to my gifts, I find that I become clearer about the fierce, sacred no I must also speak which creates space and intention in my life.
I invite you to write a poem this week about this dual call of the desert and springtime. How do you experience the invitation to simplicity? How do you embrace the new life springing forth in your heart?
You may also like:
- Crossing Borders
- Celebrating Freedom by Seeking Peace
- Breathing Space
- Sacred Artist Interview: David Ash
- Forty Early Mornings
Desert and Springtime
To both you are calling me
Strip me to blossom.
a blessing
that you
embrace
the process
the ebb
and the flow
of your
internal tides
the wax
and the wane
of your
mirrorlike light
the dormancy
and the flowering
of your
eternal spirit
that you
rest
in the knowing
that there is only now
that even the desert blooms
Incense filled church
Holy silence envelopes
expectant congregation
Priests enter
A solemn pilgrimage
Parades behind gilded cross
Altar awaits
Hosting symbols of rebirth and
Redemption
wonderful poem elizabeth!
i can feel the presense of holiness + a peacefullness awaiting.
Being alone,
Yet a blessing, knowing I am not alone,
Being insecure.
Yet a blessing, knowing I am secure,
Being because of you,
My Lord and God, all I am is yours.
Spring buds
Cold hard twigs made of wood.
Why do you send the blossoms out first?
Why not the leaves to scope out the world
and make it ready for the dawning of the bud.
Why must the fragile flower be the one
to break through the woody casings
and enter a world that’s not ready for it?
To cling to the branches while the rain pours,
the wind blows and the sun still struggles
to step out from the cloudy curtain.
Are your blossoms really strong warriors
only dressed as delicate dancers?
In my delicate fragility,
am I also a strong warrior?
Yes! and thank you, Norma, for making my literal and figurative walk deeper.
More and more the layers
like heavy velvet curtains
roll back on ancient rigging
revealing downstage barrenness
uncluttered space opens up
a surprising improv of character playing
among shrouded properties
unrehearsed truth blooms
like daisies in the desert
Each morning, outside the window
a resounding chorus bellows from the messengers
"It has arrived! It is here!"
The messengers flap wildly
as they whistle their sweet song of praise and joy
"It has arrived! We are here!"
Yes, it appears – out there
you have arrived
they are here
In here where I am
where we are together
there is a desert of quiet
nothing has arrived, there is only silence
quiet
silence
No announcement
No song
Only a bud upon the stem of the soul
tightly huddling inside itself and asking,
"What will burst forth?"
On the Beach
Tears run down
run down my cheeks.
Is it the wind blowing
in my face or
the exquisite beauty
of sand, surf, and sea
in the late afternoon sun?
Or perhaps its the music
of waves whipped by wind,
singing in my ears,
of the great beauty
of all Creation
including me.
Green blades, tiny
Strong from the struggle,
the primal desire
to catch the caress of the sun
if only for a few hours,
finally push their way through earth’s jealous heart.
this time
simplicity needs to seek me out
new life needs first to embrace me
weariness overwhelms me
my head, heart, spirit and will
remain far too broken
and winter has been too long
yet we know the story–
when winter’s gone
the ground springs to life
love surprises us again
creation is healed
all creation is free to be
it is easter!
3 am
I'm wakened,
to the Son that doesn't slumber
Alert and fresh
Still and soaking,
Surprised
Maybe because the leaf pile is gone,
The sodden shade altered
The song is stronger
This sprout is eager
yet soaking up Your stillness.
A bee experiencing be
Beloved.
Purifying & Pulsing
The desert image holds me fast this Lenten season.
Struck by the beauty, the barrenness, the wind, the sand ~
Purifying, wearing down my rough, harsh edges.
Wearing away, bearing away those things unnecessary.
But I sense this is not all there is.
I am not abandoned in this stark, empty, holy, space ~ longing remains but not emptiness.
Just beneath the surface, life pulses & breathes waiting to be birthed.
Life, so very present as yet unseen moves deep within the earth.
Life, so very present as yet unseen moves deep within my soul.
My desire is burnished bright by seeming desert blight.
When “less than” is borne away, desire stays.
Clarity emerges – no sand in my eyes!
Come desert! Purify me!
Come spring! Pulse in me!
Come!
WHO AM I
I am daughter of the earth
I am shining waters
I am salamander
I am fox
I am great black bear
I an ancient American Indian
I am European immigrant
I am breath of spring
I am the unforgotten
I am love
Spring Outside My Window:
A stirring inside rumbles through my soul…awaken.
Unfurling green cover the trees inviting…awaken with us.
A multitude of bird’s happy chatter shouts…Wake up!
Invitation sent, will I join them?
Caught in the between
Not still winter,
Not yet spring.
Not really believing
that something
new will emerge.
Even small
signs of hope
do not awaken
my hibernating heart.
After layering myself
through the winter,
I struggle to pull
off the covers.
Eyes dulled
by darkness.
Lethargy slowing
my step.
Only the chatter
and call of the birds
speak to my soul,
reminding me of
better days ahead.
Spring Flowers
In the desert sand I watch my feet
In sandals worn from the heat.
My throat is parched my eyes are dry.
I wander with hope and wonder why?
Then a well appears past swirling sand.
A Jewish man and a woman stand.
I witness them talk, than she departs.
He calls to me, I follow my heart.
I drink from the cup he hands to me.
I hear him and pray on my knees.
My heart overflows with spring flowers,
Rejoicing in His loving showers.
Now my feet are lead to green pastures
And quiet waters with my master.
I found your lovely site just a week ago and saw the poetry invitation so decided to try and write only to realize that I am a day late. Both my cell phone and laptop crashed as we are on vacation, then finally today when I went to post this I saw that I missed the deadline but it is our 34th wedding anniversary so after realizing it was too late to post we wound up at the iconic City Lights bookstore in SF, walked upstairs and saw a chair marked "Poet's Chair" in the poetry section of the store so I took it as a sign to post anyways in the spirit of the beautiful day we had and promise of many more years of wedded bliss..so I dedicate this to my wonderful husband Rick..
Sacred bloom beheld by winter’s gaze
shrouded in the mystery of paled gray frost
A barren branch bows humbled
by the splendor of your former glory
As snow crested ground faintly recalls
its once honored guest
Long, the morning sun lingers
upon silvered ice crystal floor
As aubergine and gilded leaves
arise in halo’d crownings
Tender imperial gestures that grace
your once paupered earth
The butterfly and lark
hold audience with you
As your prism’d brilliance
raptures each beholder’s eye
Intoxicating hearts with emboldened promise
of fragrant perfumed spice
Penitential branches burst forth forgiveness
Sweetly birds linger as new life freshens old.
Repent and return say swaying leaves of spring green
Innocent white purity opens the heart.
The blossom of possibility.