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
The glossy iridescence of the sleek crow
showers resurrection into life
that looked black from a distance.
You are my messenger.
You are my reminder of the isness of all things.
You, who are as common as mud,
luminous spectre
I ascend with you, blind no longer,
to the myriad prisms we scatter into
if only we risk to look more deeply.
For Richard –
Your poem was very moving and vivid. Before the poem, you wrote, “resurrection has been a tangible thing rather than a concept”. It is clear that you know this story in your bones. It is a wonderful thing to be able to recognize this gift of starting again in our lives.
Alhamdulilah!
Pam
I love the poetry party! Just saying! :-) Beautiful stuff, everyone.
Christine,
I awoke to a few edits in mind; the revision is on my blog.
Thanks again for the prompt,
John (Dirty Shame)
Okay. I’m trying this new process of writing in the “Comments” section. Hope this works! It’s my only copy of this new poem. It’s frustrating for me, that I can’t seem to cut and paste. Maybe that’s teaching me something, too. ML.
Having had my feet washed
on Thursday, His tender feet
pierced on Friday,
Monday morning We leap forward,
(lights blink briefly in an empty tomb
my past life echoes no more)
TODAY sings praise into the dawn!
Hope says “Come away with me”
and I will, my rested feet land on the floor, skipping
I will dance and sing “Come away with me,”
a new life has begun
my feet are Light
This is our song: Our God reigns!
Now, I post my poem here as well as linking it with that cute thingummy?
I’m Lynne, from Sydney Australia (where Easter comes in autumn), and I’m glad I found this blog. The poems I’ve just read, and the lives that lie behind them, are truly awesome ..
Resurrection
I shall no longer shadow-lurk
In the dim, grim darkness,
In my manifold mortality:
He has rolled away the stone.
Here, eager-footed forwards,
Into laughter-chiming light
While the waves call alleluia
And the world is glory-glad.
Not looking back, tomb-tethered,
When His wonder stretches forth
Fluid as love Himself,
Deep as desire.
Someday, star-dancing,
All is finally finished,
Now, in this liminal loveliness
Learning faith’s footing.
Embrace awaits, at the end of the sand journey,
Plunging into Him,
Knowing Life lives, grace-cadenced,
In my Lord.
Wow! I love so many of the poems this week. (My own offering can be found via Mr Linky–much easier for us and Christine, or so I suspect.)
Pam, your poem especially touched me as it mirrors so much of what I’m living now.
Thank you all
Were the first disciples skipping rocks
when Jesus came calling?
Instead of immediately saying “follow me”,
did he hold his tongue, the better part of valor?
Did he hear “be still and know” from his Father who art in heaven,
urging the only begotten to see and know…
to witness a side-armed throw and one-footed release;
to listen to rocks cry out three, four, five times before
finally saying “it is finished”;
to hear men laughing like boys as dusk lingers;
to see what “he is not here” would mean for all men.
Stunning poems! Those of you with blogs, I have responded at your own sites.
Linda, I love the movement of your poem and the feminine dimension of resurrection. Those last two questions are so beautiful
Tom, you always offer such thought-provoking imagery, this is a great collection of imagery that make me stop and ponder.
Jan, love that opening quote and your own final line, such a perfect balance and journey in between.
Nichol, there is such power in your poem and the claiming of new life.
isa, never apologize for sharing your poetry in your beautiful native tongue. I love the music of these words.
Carolyn, I love the Berry quote, hadn’t heard that one before. “quietly, slowly, measured” is a very moving line to me.
thanks bobbi, I appreciate the gracious words. Your poem gave me such a smile to honor the wisdom of the young.
mike, thanks for this moving dialogue and entering into the grace of memory.
Thank you wonderful poets! I am blessed by these words and keep the poems coming!
easter sunday,1969.i called home from japan and spoke with my father. “dad,i’ve been shot and don’t have to go back to nam again.” “no,it’s not serious.just my hand,really just a couple of fingers.” “i don’t believe there’s any value in war and won’t carry a weapon again.” “it’s going to take some time but i believe that i’ll get my head staight.i need to go out to the cottage and swim.” “hope to see you soon.”many lives were lost and damaged on the field of battle that day.i was lucky? and walked away.