The Poetry Party is returning with our 33rd one! I fasted from them for Lent so I could return to them during this Easter season with renewed energy. I have been contemplating some ways to shift how I do this to simplify the process a bit and am trying out a new system.
This is how it works: I select an image and suggest a title and invite you to respond with your poems or other reflections. If you have your own blog, please use the Mister Linky widget below to add a link back to your website and then add your poem to the comments below. If you don’t have your own blog (not required to participate), please skip Mister Linky and just go straight to the comments section to add your poem. Make sure to check the comments for new poems added and I encourage you to leave encouraging comments for each other either here or at the poet’s own blog.
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This week’s theme: Practicing Resurrection
A few years ago it occurred to me that we spend a lot of time in church talking about what practices to take on for Lent, but when Easter comes, this glorious season of resurrection, we often slip back into our ordinary lives and everyday prayer. Hopefully we arrive transformed by our Lenten journey, but the season of Easter is not just that amazing day when the tomb was discovered empty. We celebrate Easter for a full 50 days, days that slowly grow longer in the Northern hemisphere and more vibrant as the blossoming of the world unfolds around us.
As I pondered this topic, the image that immediately flashed into my mind is the one you see to the right — a little girl playing at the beach, giggling with delight. She is fully embodied in this moment, free of self-consciousness, fully herself, luminous.
I invite you to write a poem (or other form of reflection) about what your practices of resurrected life might look like. How would it feel to really embody resurrected life in your own being? If you made a commitment for the Easter season to complement your Lenten commitment, where is the invitation you discover?
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Remember! Click the link below to add your blog to the list and then post your poem in the comments section (if you don’t have a blog, just post your poem).
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© Christine Valters Paintner at Abbey of the Arts:
Transformative Living through Contemplative & Expressive Arts
34 Responses
i can feel the freedom.
like the sand between my toes.
i shiver.
with excitement?
or remorse?
both
maybe.
i inhale, deeply.
a cool breeze fills my lungs
makes me feel alive.
even though I cough a little………
i trudge forward.
the choice, is to keep moving.
never waver.
Focus.
my feet are tired.
my mind heavy.
but I move.
never looking back!!
except once in awhile……….
i am only human after all.
the tracks i leave show the distance i have already traveled.
my body is weak.
but my spirit is strong!
battered
banged up.
bruised.
yes.
optimistic
over flowing with hope
open to newness
YES!!!
I am a SURVIVOR!
Stand back!
and
you
will
see.
~ Nichol ~
I played with haiku, thinking a little about order and chaos…here’s what I came up with:
Warm sand under foot
Gentle breezes move the air
My heart soars to you
In a breeze, a storm
a quiet moment, a breath
where life is, you are
(bonus Easter haiku, since I was in the mood:)
The darkest Friday
A Saturday in silence
Sunday’s dawn–joy!
Resurrection
“Resurrection, the reversal of what
was thought to be absolute. The turning…”
Molly Fumia from A Grateful Heart
Resurrection, to rise again when
staying down might seem easier,
or the more prudent thing to do.
Resurrection, to get up, take a few steps,
inhale deeply the fragrant air
of spring, to wander outside
the magic circle of protection
around you to the place where
there are no guarantees.
Resurrection—to start out
newly or in a new direction
or in an old one with renewed
vigor and commitment.
(It is said that cats have
nine lives—might we have more?)
Resurrection—the second chances
that become extraordinary
because we took them—we
rose up, said, “Yes,
here I am
again—make way.”
Janice Lawry
Hi all. I’ve lived one of those kinds of lives where resurrection has been a tangible thing rather than a concept. Bob Dylan wrote: “I’ve escaped death so many times I know I’m only living/By the saving grace that’s over me.” Without providing you with any detail, that’s my story.
RESURRECTION
After months
flat on my back
I began
my return
to life
in a nursing home
in a wheel chair
under a shower
with a tender
Muslim aide
aiming the spray
of hot water
onto my head.
The pleasure
was so intense
I saw stars
and shivered
and laughed
and shouted
Al-Hamdu Lillah!
Thanks be to God!
And the aide
lit up
to join
my glee
and whispered
Al-Hamdu Lillah
as he ran
a washcloth
across my chest.
RW
Many Tongues, One Voice
Seek first the kingdom before
anything was the word.
Realm found in most unusual
places, among markings that tell
something, that imitates more
and imparts less. But on some days
they are ten for a dollar. Then on another
they are two for three dollars.
Who do people say that I am?
is as good as a greeter at Wal-Mart
not comatose in some aisle but dying
with dignity. Grasping at straws is
dissimilar to grabbing for loved ones.
Wills read are not the same as eulogies said.
Family is always there and wondering
who got what. Moses taking off sandals
is what made the ground sacred-
the fire always speaks.
I am.
Surprising, Uprising
Up from the grave she will arise
clothed in garments woven from strands that are gathering,
gathering in.
Once naked and ashamed, she sinned and lived,
her apple-half eaten and discarded.
She turned from the garden,
and stumbled down,
down
down below the dirt
beneath the unknowable
under the inexpressible,
and will stay buried there
until the trumpet sounds
and the dead arise.
Do you not believe that the dead in you will rise?
That you will begin to stir
and remember
that there is nothing,
not even the sting of death
that can stop the power of this gathering strength,
this rising,
this resurrection?
Elizabeth, I look forward to seeing what emerges from your time of watching and tending.
Pam, your poem breathes resurrection. I especially love the image of you running in the meadow and throwing yourself down among that wild blossoming, such freedom, such life.
A Resurrected Life
It is easy to live
a resurrected life
when cancer almost
snatched away the one I had.
The whole world looks new.
A freshness,
every small beauty
to be noticed.
It even surprises me
that I have a life to lead,
poems to write,
dreams to follow.
Taken to the edge,
now I can
back away
from that cliff,
Run in the meadows,
and throw myself down
among the wildflowers.
These are days of celebration,
Days of joy,
days of resurrection.
I was just wondering why I find Lent to be so much more comfortable! It’s hard, I find, to “let” (as though they happen by my will alone!) good things happen… I’ll have to give myself some space with this reflection but I’ll be keeping my eye on the words in response, searching for clues, trying to understand.