for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing
—Galway Kinnell, “Saint Francis and the Sow”
Body that held the bloom of the child
as it grew inside, grew from one cell
to two trillion cells, body that stretched
and leaked and ached and tore, body
that was on board for a miracle, thank
you. Thank you for stooping, for chasing,
for bending and cuddling, for creating milk
and spilling tears and falling asleep as you must.
How empty the arms now, how slow the pulse,
how tight the throat, how strong this urge
to curl into what is not here. How hard it is
to open, to meet the world anew.
And yet every day, you turn to what is real
and, how is it possible, the heart, it blossoms.
Posts Tagged ‘miracle’
Impossible Change
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, body, loss, miracle, mother on February 9, 2022| 8 Comments »
Apricity
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged miracle, presence, stillness, warmth, winter on January 22, 2022| 12 Comments »
The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.
—Thich Nhat Hanh
Today the miracle is to sit
in the sunlit room and be
in the sunlit room,
to be here and only here,
here in the bountiful silence,
here in the shifting shadows,
here in the hands of midwinter,
not in this same room five years ago,
but now as the tulips
drop the soft curls of their petals
like lingering pink praise.
So seldom in these grief ridden days
do I feel a feeling so pure
as this peace that arrives
on the low-angled light
when I am quiet and still
and the world invites me
to show up for whatever
slim warmth there is, and
know it is enough.
Apulosis
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged biology, grief, miracle, scar, skin, wound on January 8, 2022| 4 Comments »
They’re almost invisible now,
these scars on my hands—
cuts from cat claws
and thorn bushes,
barbed wire fences.
I have long since forgotten
their stories.
It’s what the body does—
forms new fibers
to mend damage.
But what of when
the wound has touched
every part of the body,
every part of the heart,
every part of story
of who you are?
How long will
there be healing
before there’s a scar?
Will it be raised?
Or sunken? Or flat?
I run a fingertip
along the thin pale lines
on the back of my right hand.
These scars, I see
are repairs made by time
and biology.
But some scars,
I believe,
are beyond the body.
Some scars
can only be knit
by miracle.
Short List of Wonders
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged belief, death, faith, miracle, mother, wonder on October 8, 2021| 13 Comments »
Years from now,
I want to remember
the way tears
became white doves
and flew away,
the way stepping stones
appeared to help me
cross an impossible
river, the way
a crumpled letter arrived
from the dead
to proclaim
I am surrounded with joy.
Oh woman who lives
in my skin years from now,
don’t try to pretend
it didn’t happen.
It did. A rainbow
blossomed above
your shoulder.
Your head opened up
to receive golden light.
Life wrapped its strong hands
around your heart.
And when you asked
your son, Are you close,
you felt against your ribs
a knocking
from the inside.
Morning After
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged election, miracle, praise on November 8, 2020| 6 Comments »
Again the chance to praise
the same room, the same floor,
the same view, the same tea,
the same image in the same mirror,
which today is startlingly not the same.
Again the chance to find the miracle
in the leaves that fall, the miracle
in the morning sun, the miracle
in the willows beside the pond.
Again, the chance to fall in love
with the same sky, the same field,
the same dirt, the same broken world.
Again, the chance to show up
with these same tired arms
and put them to work,
the same work as yesterday,
which is to learn to lift up,
to heal, to carry, to build,
to be in the world, to praise
the same room, the same floor,
the same view, the same tea.
One Marvel
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, miracle, morning on August 6, 2020| 6 Comments »
Re-Seeing the Obvious
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged body, life, miracle, poem, poetry, pregnancy, what is living this life on November 12, 2019| 2 Comments »
When pregnant, it was clear
I was along for the ride with a miracle.
Sure, I could eat organic broccoli,
walk and eschew caffeine,
but that was just taking care
of the vessel. Life itself
was doing the real work.
Imagine my surprise today
to realize I’m still along for the ride.
How did I ever kid myself
that I was in charge?
And oh, the bliss today
to notice anew these hands,
these eyes, these feet!
What joy to see them again
as the miracle they are,
to offer them in service to life.
Finding the Miracles
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged miracle, poem, poetry on June 13, 2019| 1 Comment »
How often do I miss miracles dressed in ordinary clothes? That’s the theme of this sonnet published today in Gratefulness.org. Check it out and share it!
To Whomever Anonymously Sent Me a Book of Poems in the Mail
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged generosity, gratitude, kindness, Lynn Ungar, miracle, poem, poetry on March 5, 2019| 4 Comments »
From a brown envelope sent by Amazon,
I pull out Bread and Miracles, a book
of poems I’ve admired for years.
I wrote the author long ago
to tell her I love her poems,
the way she makes devotion
of earthworms and camas lilies.
But there is no way to explain why
her words arrive here in my own kitchen
except through some miracle, which is,
I suppose, another name for kindness.
Whoever you are, sweet sender
of poems, thank you. Thank you
for knowing exactly what book
I might like to receive, though
I’ve never told anyone. Thank you
for knowing there would be a day
when a dear man died and I would need
to remember that goodness thrives,
that generosity flourishes, that
there are people out there who,
out of pure benevolence,
extend themselves to others.
There is a fairy tale in which
bread crumbs are insufficient to save
a brother and sister. But they are saving
this woman, and though I don’t know
where the trail began, I follow it forward
saying thank you, thank you, thank you.
Watching the Basilisk Lizard
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged basilisk lizard, jesus lizard, miracle, poem, poetry on May 2, 2018| 5 Comments »
They call it the Jesus lizard
because it walks on water,
yes, walks—or rather runs—
upright on two feet.
It was Matthew who wrote
how Jesus Christ walked
on the Sea of Galilee.
Christ had to tell his disciples not
to be afraid. But the Jesus Lizard
runs on water because he is afraid—
up to five feet per second.
It’s either run on water
or burrow into the sand—
and the lizard has a ring
of muscles around both nostrils
to prevent sand from getting in.
Is that miracle? or just practical?
But to run! To run on water!
After fifteen feet,
the lizard sinks to all fours
and swims. But imagine!
To be part of the miracle,
if only for a moment,
to do what seems as if
it cannot be done.
The scientists say it’s no miracle at all.
The lizards have flaps between their toes
that create a larger surface area
and also small pockets of air—
this gives the lizard buoyancy.
What part of me would rather believe
in miracles than science? Or, is it possible
we’ve made the definition
of miracle too small? Perhaps
flaps between toes is an miracle of evolution.
Perhaps, this too, is a miracle:
two feet, ten toes that walk
on land, one foot moving forward at a time.
check out this crazy critter here: https://www.google.com/search?q=jesus+lizard+animal+wikipedia&oq=j&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j35i39j69i61l3j69i59.2991j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8