Poetry for 2015 into 2016
Poetry you have written, perhaps in sync with the Christmas spirit, in sympathy with the flowering trees that think it is Spring, in prayerful reflection on the situations of refugees, or in appreciation of learning the name of a homeless person who accepts the coffee you offer, is welcome here.
Also welcome are the poetic voices of those of us in parishes in transition. What does it feel like to, temporarily we hope, be the lay persons with "in-Charge" after our names?
Send such poems and others fresh out of your printer to me at campbellba@earthlink.net. (Temporarily I hope) I can't open the gmail address you may have.
Peace and keep writing,
Barbara A. Campbell
Connecticut' Diocesan Poet
Sometimes
the Gospel is direct inspiration as Mark 13:1-8 was for Garth A. Myers when he
heard it read at Trinity Episcopal Church, Wethersfield. He wrote “Shine like All the Brightness
of the Sky" while sitting in the pew and he hopes to set these words to music.
Poem/Song by Garth Myers,
Trinity Episcopal Church, Wethersfield
Inspired by Gospel Mark
13:1-8
Shine like all the brightness of
the sky
Shine like rays of sunlight on
the land
Rejoice in the path of this one
life
Rejoice in all the fullness of
your time
Goodbye to all the pain on the
earth
Farewell to every weight that
holds you down
Give birth to a new and lighter
day
Good morning to an age of perfect
peace
We
can dream our way
Past
all the buildings tumbling down
We
can dream our way
Through
the blood in which we drown
If
we can’t dream, we fall apart, break our hearts
Drop
back into the pit where we start
A thin black
line that stretched from end to end
We know how thin and easy to
break
Link arms and hold each one of us
up
Together raise the good news cup
And shine like all the brightness
of the sky
Shine like rays of sunlight on
the land
Rejoice in the path of this one
life
Rejoice in all the fullness of
your time
Rejoice
********************
Sometimes poems are shared as signs of encouragement and and community. Aldon Hynes' poem was written on a church retreat at Camp Incarnation and sent to Jane Mansfield Bouvier who responded with one of her own.
The Retreat
Grace and St. Peter's, Woodbridge
It had been thirty years
since I last came
to this wooded camp.
I was living in the city then
going to church
with hundreds
of young men and women
artists and businessmen
trying to find themselves
in their crazy twenties
in a crazy city.
I was trying to find something then too,
God, friendship, myself, meaning.
I was awkward.
I was other.
I only fit in,
around the edges.
What would the camp be like
for me
thirty years later?
Then,
I came,
seeking
a blessing.
At this retreat
we came
to practice
pronouncing blessings.
Blessed are you
o road,
that has carried
so many school buses
and church vans,
so many hopes
and fears
to these
hallowed woods.
You’ve been repaved
so many times
over the past
three decades,
May you continue to be
a path
to those who seek.
Blessed are you,
o acorns.
Your ancestors
were buried
by forgetful squirrels
when I was here last.
May your descendants
continue to fall
punctuating
the reflections
of other
retreatants
Blessed are you
o squirrels
running from tree to tree
following ever bending
paths,
performing
leaps of faith
we wouldn’t dare.
Your great great grandparents
leapt from tree to tree
the same way
years ago.
May your faith
and playfulness
live in your grandchildren
and continue to inspire
those yet to dome.
Blessed are you,
o buildings,
so many the same,
though renovated,
and some new.
May you continue
to shelter the seeker
and provide memories.
On the deck,
in quiet meditation,
we looked at the trees
the way
I’ve sat
and looked
at paintings
in art museums.
By the lake
I’d often swum
a piece of bark
rested
on the outdoor altar,
it’s probably now been moved
during a Eucharist.
What does this altar
have in store
for me?
Perhaps,
I’m finding,
what I was
truly looking for
three decades ago,
not some great insight,
friendship,
or goal,
but the beauty
of always
finding
and always
being found,
the beauty
of always
blessing,
and always
being blessed.
Chapel on the Green
by Jane Mansfield Bouvier
The morning rain ends.
Sun breaks through the clouds above the New Haven green.
The trees proclaim autumn in bold orange, red, and gold.
We are here to celebrate Mass with the homeless.
The congregation gathers on the green.
John, a professional drummer, arranges volunteer musicians.
They sit in a semi-circle before blue plastic containers.
They will beat a rhythm with drumsticks to the hymns.
“We Shall Overcome” is first.
There is much to overcome.
There is homelessness, poverty, stigma.
There is mental illness and addiction.
There are physical limitations.
We sing with conviction.
Our pastor gives the eulogy.
She says, “Every life is precious.”
She says, “ You are all made in the image of God.”
She exhorts the congregation not to be silent.
The prayers of the faithful follow.
One man prays for a friend about to have surgery.
Another prays for the homeless community.
A woman prays for all the soup kitchens in the city.
One man prays for the two people he stole from.
On and on go the prayers of the faithful.
They will not be silenced.
More prayers and the sign of peace.
We move about, acknowledging each other's presence.
We say, “Peace to you,” and “God bless you.”
The communion wafer is dipped in grape juice instead of wine.
Our pastor explains this is out of respect for those fighting addiction.
After communion, we sing.
“Amazing Grace” is the hymn.
I clear the lump from my throat and join in.
We are a community.
****************
May the litany below put you in a good place for continued writing of poetry.
V: We who play with words and are played
with by your Word,
R: Gracious Lord, hear us.
V: From drivel and saying the obvious,
R: Good Lord, deliver us.
V: When phrases stick in our minds,
R: Help us develop them.
V: When metaphor expresses the truth even
better,
R: Guide it home.
V: When we're stuck,
R: Send us another word, or three or four.
V: Teach us to appreciate community,
R: And ask for editing.
V: Help us to accept when the poem really
ends,
R: Gracious Lord, hear us.
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