Social Justice-Getting Past the Stone Table

Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶

Cedar River-Renton WA, outside my daughter’s first apartment I’ve been a little preoccupied (okay, a LOT preoccupied) with finding a new teaching position for next year. I’ve felt a stirring to do so, confident (mostly) it’s the right thing to do, but now I’m in the hard part–trusting God to help me. I’d much…
“The seed catalogues are a further promise of warm days to come. I class them as fiction and love to read them. Oh, the beautiful roses and tall spikes of delphinium and the flowering bushes-not to mention the carrots as big as telephone poles and the peas that practically shell themselves… We get some pretty…
May 12, 1974 “Dearest Jody, I’m writing you today to say, “I’m glad I’m your mom.” I am now, and always have been, so proud of you, Jo. Can’t remember a single moments’ “trouble” that you’ve ever been in or any periods of anxiety that you have caused. Sure there were minutes of panic…like the…
I am parched and dry dreaming of rain like a thirsty crop no, not rain: I imagine a downpour, would prefer a drenching a soaking like rum in a bread pudding. Oh, to be drunk on new wine to relish a draught of liquid life, Living Water. Sadly, there is no time to drink so…
My neck is killing me. (The lavender-laced, rice-filled warming thingy helps a bit. ) My massage therapist says my neck muscles are so strained from being in this position they have ridges in them. Ridges? That cannot be good. Protocol dictates I come see her once a week for the next six weeks. I’m grateful…
I came as a witness, the extra listener, to deflect and defend, maybe decide what this grief will look like. The suited man at the table tells us there are options for this sort of thing. My daughter L holds a tissue, I poise my pen at the paper before me. Burying a child is…