How many people
sat in this chair
and stared out the same big window?
How many thoughts have been thought
that would not have been thought
without sitting in this chair?
Her long flowing hair was her beauty,
but she kept it tightly bound in a bun
upon her head.
Her nurturing heart was her beauty,
but she kept it beating for
her own sustainability.
Vulnerable is she
with her hair down and
her heart worn on her sleeve.
1 Peter 3:3-4(NIV)
Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.
Imitate an author and learn how to write. This was an assignment in my college Creative Writing class.
Freshen the Flowers, She Said
by Mary Oliver
So I put them in the sink, for the cool porcelain
and took out the tattered and cut each stem
on a slant,
trimmed the black and raggy leaves, and set them all –
roses, delphiniums, daisies, iris, lilies,
and more whose names I don’t know, in bright new water –
a bounce upward at the end to let them take
their own choice of position, the wheels, the spurs,
the little sheds of the buds. It took, to do this,
perhaps fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes of music
with nothing playing.
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Freshen the Fishbowl, He Said
So I put them near the window, for the view
and took out half the water and moved the landscape
with my hands,
I chased the schools, and watched them all –
goldfish, guppies, killfish, mollies, barbs,
and more whose species I don’t know, in half murky water –
a waterfall of fresh tap water from a bucket to let them make
their own choice of school near the trees, the sunken ships,
the littlest of them all. It took, to do this,
perhaps twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of care
with nothing dying.
Philippians 4:5 (NIV)
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
There is a pounding in the chest,
a faucet at the pores,
a deflated self-confidence,
a slow dance viewed from the wall.
There is a brightness so blinding,
a boom so deafening,
a chatterbox so muting,
a relationship that lives in abuse.
There is a movement in the lawn,
a bird in the tree,
a squirrel on the fence,
a cat in quest of a hunt.
There is a vacancy in the womb,
a longing to conceive,
a desperation to pro-create,
a prohibiting reminder that is flowing.
There is a machine to purify,
a food consumption ritual,
a phone call in the night,
a kidney that is ready for new life.
There is a forgiveness freely given,
a peace beyond understanding,
a hope not of this world,
a name that is written in the Book of Life.
unraveled spools of thread
while my brain sleeps
Ezekiel 37: 5 (NIV)
This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.