When summer’s twilight warmed the Moongate Garden, soft breezes lit twin fires, feldspar and quartz, in rose granite, and my hand trembled as you entered through the gate of half-moons. Water circled, a calm pool, and the soft blush of the lotus laid bare my heart.
Nothing was yet forbidden. The trees shielded us even to their own gaze, their leafy whispers mingling with ours, their shadows lengthening over ours. Darkness, insatiate, spun round the breathless earth.
came the harvest moon
trapped in the water’s cold eye
ever by your tomb
A haibun written for Dverse's Haibun Monday 9/28/20: to the Moon! Click on Mr. Linky for more haibun and join us!
Prostrated by the summer’s heat, we cannot always see the fruit that is being produced on a vine. Just so, cast down by our sufferings, it’s hard to see the fruit God is producing in us. Even so, Lord God, we pray, let it all be to your glory! Amen.Continue reading “Through It All: Fruit”
Y’all know there’s red, white, blue
Violet, purple and cerulean too
Jazzberry jam, purple mountains’ majesty
Canary, cornflower and fuzzy wuzzy
But strike me dumb if ever you see
A spectrum as mind-blowing as ZANY
Not even a Crayola box can contain
The uncanniness like an outrageous grin
For when you happen to chance upon it
Everything’s a subject for merry wit!
The senex stared at the garlic, the little cast-iron pot. Should she summon the Old One? What would it demand this time? But half her staff had been taken, the other half, turned. The chorus-women deserted. Once again the child zealots had led them astray.
She removed the pot, chanting:
The Outsider’s here, siddle-siddle, hiss
Lay the garlic in the pan, make yourself a wish
Round about it go, dance in despair
I’m the one who betrays with a siddle-siddle, kiss.
If only there were some other way to be re-elected.
But at what cost? At what cost??
word count: 100 written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers click on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields's hand-drawing of the frog for more tales of a hundred words or less. And join the fun!
I’m skating it, free-wheeling it
Somersaulted skyward by the infinite jest of it
That I could be winging it, barrel-rolling
Like Icarus to the very summit of it
Unburned by it, cascading liberating fall of it
Caught in it, unbound through it, Your love.
For dVerse's Quadrille #112: The Sky’s the Limit (in 44 words) Click on Mr. Linky for more and join in!
Getting my coasters all lined up for a reading break.Yesterday I was privileged to read Candace Owens’s Blackout and was impressed by this young woman’s sagacity and determination to break out of the collective mold she had been forced into by virtue of the color of her skin through the demagoguery of political leaders and educators. Her personal story was well worth reading in and of itself, apart from the views she now holds as to how best her fellow black Americans can advance their communities and enhance their lives individually.
Today, back to British historian Tom Holland’s Dominion, his most recent offering, much more of a slow read given the breadth of his subject but now that I’m more than half-way through, enjoying his take on the world-changing nature of Judaeo-Christian values which have raised the conditions of the marginalized, the poor and the helpless to a status they would never have enjoyed otherwise. By dint of his being an agnostic, Holland’s objectivity is especially impressive for its unfiltered look at the now universally-touted values of individuality, freedom, civil rights and tolerance that Christians helped advance throughout the world by their belief in the dignity of every human being made in the image of God.
All this by way of saying I’ll be on a blogging break for an indefinite time but will catch y’all back here as soon as may be.
Take care, my friends.
Freedom is Soul Food
I see the white picket fences with gardens galore
“Healthy, wealthy, wise,” to you they implore
To follow their ways of crooked desire:
Forget narrow ways and the cross on a spire
When you can live like a king and master of your fate
Living it up with all you can eat on a plate.
But there’s more to life than living behind
White picket fences with gardens they design
A prisoner you’ll be to all that they crave
No freedom you’ll have to serve the God who can save.
“You gotta serve somebody,” the old crooner sang
He got it right and to amazing grace he ran
‘Cause freedom is soul food and nothing satisfies
Like breathing free in Christ with a soul that never dies.