Two poems that seemingly go well together...#13 & #14

It hit me today as I was sitting in another memorial service for one of my friends that in the last nine months I’ve lost five faithful men in my life. Some I knew well and some not so well, but boy did they leave an impact at the times they bolstered me up and were there. I also thought of my brothers as the words said about this unique man, my friend at church, was also echoes so familiar of the men in my life I’ve lost as they were all of this strain of the faithful and faith filled men.

I have wept most of the day away missing them.

So, this poem is for Nolan, whose memorial was today, and he was my friend at church for twenty-two years. I started this thinking of him and then it broadened out as this is also for Deems, who is having his memorial next week, and was a theatre mentor for me when I got to Seattle in 1994 and remained a friend I could always call. His jolly laughter is ringing in my ears still.

This is for my Dad, who I miss, as he was just buried three weeks ago. He was a small town doctor and he showed up day or night at any hour for all kinds of people. When I think back, he did show up for me a few unexpected times also, to make sure his baby was being treated right. He was a good man.

This is for Henry, the neighborhood Dad, as I was growing up and always made time for me and went on in February. I have memories of fond talks with that quiet, funny man.

This is for Wes, another theatre Dad, who had a cheery disposition and corny smile on and off stage plus gave great hugs---he went on this fall.

And it is National Sibling Day---for my faithful brothers Tom, that teased me something awful, but I loved sparring with and he has been gone nearly ten years now, and David, who will have been gone four soon, who was always there with some gentle graces and now is not.

And these men made me think of my adopted grandfather, “Uncle Wils”, whose kindness shaped me so much into who I am today. Even though he’s been gone for twenty years now, I often think of him, especially when someone uses the words faithful about someone else---he always leaps to mind.

Bear with the sentimentality about these wonderful men I was so privileged to know, even for just a little while. To the men that have gone before me….

Team Faithful Sliding Home

What a rare thing

Praise for the faithful

For the one who shows up

No matter what

Rain, wind, ice, snow,

Sleet, hail, or threatened tornado,

He was there

He came and was in each group

Occupying a space

In the loop

A strong link in the chain

In our hearts he will remain

He led not by shouting

Anyone down

But by checking on those

Who sported a frown

He cared for us all

When we needed a job done

To him we’d call

And he’d come

No matter the time

Or where from

He’d find a way

Or would relay

Someone to help

He didn’t stall

He was there

And now he’s not

But we are not all he’s got

His Savior was his love

He’s now with him above

We are sure he has that spot

So celebrate and dance

Joke and laugh

Despite this sudden advance

We are glad

Our friend

Is home at last

Inspired by today’s scripture readings from Zechariah and the sermon text of John 9:1-11 (and the sermon).

 Nor By Strength of Men

Not by might nor by power

We are given

We handed over

All we are

To be more

Than what we

Think we are

No judgement

We unload

Our locker

Of belittlement

To melt away

The crust

Unearthed a soft

Newborn exposed

To the elements

Of ordinary holiness

Seeing what wasn’t

Now is

To become

What can be?

In clay pots

Spit shined beyond clean

The common essentials

Now gold

To unfold

An uncommon life

Poem #12 Tulip Time

It seems I always do a post about the tulips if we go up and see them during April. They are so beautiful, it is hard not to write something about them!

Tulip Time

Sky meeting dark green slender tops

Of trees like straight spears

Side by side

Poking through fluffed up cloud

Standing alone in a blue

Field overhead

Stretching for miles

The road flat running

Length of the expanse

Of vibrant color

Yellow, red, white with red tipped,

Orange, fuchsia, violet,

Yellow with red tips, midnight purple,

Light pink, lavender, royal reds,

Regal purple, and orange with brown tips

They electrify in sunlight

Brightening the puddled landscape

Traffic backed up for miles

As the silent sentinel trees

Stand guard

Waiting for them to

Turn their faces full

Up to the sun

And then flash out

Blown beauty

Loosing petals daily

Till they are all blown

Up and away

Until this time

Next year

Poems #10 & #11 Tied Together and A Gardeners Revenge

Tied Together

We were babies

We looked it

I was over eager

As were you

The day we walked

Together down the isle

It was super sunny

Inside and out

We were the happiest

Our families came together

They didn’t really

But we did

We are still

We two made a third

Who has turned the sun up

And caused more lines

Or gray hairs

But our love is magnified

With the chords of three

Bound together for eternity

A Gardner’s Revenge

Slosh, splash, splotch

The rain makes things rot

It goes through all I’ve got

And then some

Slugs clinging underneath

Slimy trails left as they creep

Mamas and babies found asleep

I slide them off into my pot

And salt them just a bit

They go into fits

Curling up

They’re caught

In my spring garden

I want them not!

Poem #9 Unusually Warm Weather Boy

A delightful day at the beach with my loving son today and as you can see it was the highlight of my day. I don’t want to jinx it, but this is the best school break I can remember having with him in many years and I don’t think it is just the weather.

Unusually Warm Weather Boy

The little ones frolic

Dragging heavy buckets of wet sand

To and fro, giggling and finding the spaces in between

Their energy is pulsing with the tide

My son stands still

Like a giant in this strange land filled with munchkins

Or mini-fish swimming by him

He seems to concentrate on that one grain of sand

That is stuck

He feels it and knows each corner

It feels sharp becoming smooth

A pearl cuts its new path

As he stares at the horizon

The other children are playing

Not noticing the clam-boy

Silent looking at everything while

Seeming to stare at nothing

The heard passes him by

Caught in the tag team of each other

And what the next one is doing

Can they join in?

They leave to party down the beach

Somewhere mothers call them

Siblings throw water on each other

Screaming delight as a preschool teacher

Blows bubbles on her charges

All the while, my son mimics the seagulls

Taunting them as they fly overhead

He toots like the ferry horn

As it docks full and friendly

He tunes up a key to be the train whistle

as it chugs by the busy beach

He is the sound of everything

That some don’t hear

and others turn their heads

wondering where that extra

Call, horn, or whistle is emanating from?

He goes gently to the water

sticking in his feet to freeze

April thaw off the mountains

Turns his toes blue

His titers with delight

The shock to his system

It seems to thrill as much as horrify

He grins wide turning his

face firmly up to the sun

His eyes closed, yet so wide open

To everything

Though nothing seems to get in

He speaks only to me

From movie lines or explaining seagull habits

Or the constant weather topic

Unusual warmth today

will most likely break all previous records

He dances at the thought

Then turns his face again

Up to soak in that statistic

Through his skin

It meaning nothing to most people

And everything to him

He travels back and forth now

A slower version of those

Children around him

That have worn a path to the water’s edge

He comes to talk to me where I sit

Soaking in the sun

He doesn’t want to leave me

But the water calls

I get up to walk to the edge with him

Kick off my shoes

Asking him to hold my hand

And help me brave the cold

He dutifully does

Helping me step into the icy Puget Sound

I squeal because I can’t help it

He laughs, his eyes delighted that I’ve joined him

In this tiny bit

The waves wash our feet

A holy ceremony

In this cathedral of sun, wind, and sound

As all around us rushes by

We stand

I hear nothing but him

And he shows me everything

Poem #8 Putting Down Roots

Putting Down Roots

Reluctant, reticent, resilient

Roaming through the meadows of my mind

Mercy lurking and leaking out

Like a hissing radiator

That can’t quite warm up

It clanks and pops

Posing like it is going to do something

But the room remains ice cold

Hot to touch, but not moving out

From its cold metal

To brush it would melt paint

But to stand across waiting

Expectant of a tropical-like-existence

Nothing there but a grand

Performance of air

Sticky mind is bogging me down

To slide into those pipes

Clonking around, gurgling

Glue-like persistence

To stick around and around and around

The same bends and jerks

That pulls from somewhere unknown

To go down that same road

And wind up in my favorite hated haunt

To dance with ghosts that calls my name

And ask if it is still a dime

to take me round the floor again

or has the price gone up?

I fly away from them

Clawing out of that grave

To find the flowers have

Bloomed above ground after all

Spring has arrived early

The ground now unsettled

It is tilled and ready for planting

Poem #7 Daddy's Steady Gaze

My Daddy is on my mind. Tonight I offer up the poem I wrote in all its ineptitude, but it had “to be”. I was asked by my sisters to do the obituary at my Dad’s funeral three weeks ago. My sisters planned everything and did a great job doing so, but they told me when I arrived the day before the funeral what my part was, which was fine, but when I arrived at the church an hour before the service I had this conversation with the undertaker.

UT: So, you’re Sarah? And you’ll be doing the obituary and reading a poem?

ME: What?

UT: You are doing the obituary?

ME: Yes, I knew that part, but poem?

UT: Oh, your sisters thought you might read one of your poems or have a story or something about your father? That’s alright if you don’t, I suppose, but they seemed to think….

ME: No, I get it. I might have something….let me think for a few minutes on it?

UT: Of course, of course, let us know?

ME: Of course, I will….yes…just let me think?

And off I went to the front pew listening to my sisters practice piano and songs and I turned the obituary that my sister had written out over to start to scribble some kind of poem or memory on the back and now it was less than an hour till service. I have so many stories now, but being on that day and time, I could think of little that was specific or appropriate to tell, so I began with two lines that popped into my head.  

I was interrupted by several people wanting to hug and talk that had come in special for the funeral. I hugged and talked. I got back to the task when we all sat down and my sister Joan began prelude. I knew I had about two minutes to either produce something or say nothing, which didn’t seem right at all, so I wrote this and improvised a little better on the fly while standing up there “reading” it after I’d read the obituary. I didn’t title it until now. I wish it were better, but it did what it was supposed to do at the time and hints at the great man we all loved.

Daddy’s Steady Gaze

My father’s eyes

Looked to the skies

For inspiration and hope

To find strength to cope

With needs beyond his scope

His kind heart embraced

To those he spoke

Tying together he laced

A community forever

Compassion he invoked

Daddy will be missed

Conversations provoked

Ideas, love, history

Will forever float

Around the memory

Like he spoke

We hear his voice

In ours

Poem #6 Car Accident Chats with My Son

Car Accident Countdown

Nine, count them nine

It’s hard to believe

I couldn’t retrieve reports for all of them

But he asked and I kept thinking there was more

I hit a parked car

That is where I learned “classic” means

Expensive to repair

The dirt road roll-over

I wasn’t sure what happened

A big rock and going too fast

Was part of the story?

The lady that left a perfect impression of her front end

In my side passenger door

I remember that shock well

And another lady that clipped my bumper

As I finished that left hand turn

And she spun me round into on-coming traffic

Or the polite teen that rear ended me

But boy, was I mad because it was

Their entire fault

But, I’ve had faults too

The rain pelting down

More than once

I misjudged that turn

As the watery ghost of a car

Near me seemed farther away

And the time the air bag hit

With such force

I don’t remember if I walked away

Or the ambulance came?

Later my dear one

Went to clean out the van

What was left in it?

And he came home to hug me so close,

I could barely breathe

As he sobbed in my arms

To see how close death could have been

Those angels that pushed it inches

The other direction are on double duty

In times like that

My boy asked and I answered

They all seem incredibly long ago

But now that I’m remembering

I think there was a tenth

That is a nice round number

And a good place to stop

Poems #4 Here Comes the Sun and #5 One More Day

From Seattle’s amazing blazing sunshine and grand Spring weather this week to my not so sunny mood considering the recent death of my father. Yep, not the greatest poetry I’ve ever written, but honest in its desires.

Here Comes the Sun

Come and dare the day away

To see what we can see

Finding jewels in strawberries

And be what want to be

Sing the words we long to hear

Beyond the crystal sea

Streets crystalline that shimmer

A love-a-thon for free

To soak in the kind

And have in mind

All manner of mystery

Becomes apparent

As we inherent

Super powers beyond degree

Climb a tree

Plant a seed

Find someone to hug

Live a life beyond the screen

Frolic in the sun!

One More Day

One day is as good as another

Or so I always thought

Until the one I longed to see

Had been removed from his spot

He was always there

It seemed unfair

To now think of him as not

I wanted more

What had gone before

Seemed much too thin a plot

Now this day is marked gray

I cannot say

why this day appeals to me?

I feel unmoored, adrift, bereft

A lock without the key

I hear the years

Will scrub the tears

Well washed this day made clean

I want it now

Across my bow

One more day to dream

Poem #3 Cracked Open

Worldwide Autism Awareness Day

My poem tonight isn’t about autism directly, but something that happened with our boy today and the way he communicates or communicated this one moment in time that started small and became huge.
The pictures are from a few months ago where our boy who struggles with motor skills sometimes and motor planning as part of his struggles climbed to the top of one of those really high net climbing ropes at the Seattle Center. 
We were proud as punch as there were tons of kids and he didn't give up as he sometimes would in the past with so many on there. He tried it twice and didn't get up by himself the first time as a parent that was up there helped him, but he did it a second time and was so proud to push through and do it himself. That is what getting to each goal physically and emotionally is like for him it seems. He inspires me daily.

Cracked Open

The door ajar

Grabs thoughts

About stranger danger

The world spins

Full of sins

A frightened boy

Crushes joy

Pushed away

I stay

To bolster boy

Holding hands

We understand

God’s plan

A peace covers

Tears for fears

Are dry now