On Poetry, Cracking and Other Stuff

 

I’m a bit breathless and cracked, broken and wrecked. And yet full, complete, repaired. Re-paired with renewed passion but still trying to find my balance after the last three months.

In November, I made my now annual trek to my other home in a Texas canyon–Laity Lodge for a High Calling retreat. Then there was Thanksgiving at my sister’s. Then to Haiti for a week. Then Christmas. And my sister’s again. Then New Year’s. Then the Dominican with Compassion.

 

There’ve been cheer competitions on Saturdays and a night away for a company thing. Then last Friday night we took the whole family to see the Harlem Globetrotters. The next day we met our Gaylord family for an overnight at a waterpark. My not-that-old computer croaked, so I had to get a new MacBook Pro, but one of these things are not like the other, and I’m trying to get used to it while trying to reload what I want to keep from the past.

I’m still processing.

I’m still in process.

We made a little progress on the house in the midst of everything thanks to the backup of a clogged basement drain and an offset toilet. The septic tank was fine, but it did mean calling in a plumber twice. It also meant moving out the washer and dryer to bleach the floor–which also meant combing down cobwebs and restacking storage tubs that I hope to reduce at least in half. I’m anxious to use the sweet paintbrushes Susan sent me, but more decluttering is still first on the menu.

Anyway my words have been few. But… I did write a few poems last week.

 

Cracked

Two tiny peanuts
snug in soft blue shells.
How will life crack you?

(A reflection on my trip to the Dominican)

 

 

Lilacs Are Lilac

Lilacs are lilac
unless they’re white
or pink.
They used to hog the ground
on the east side of the house
until my son chopped them all down
in the Great Lilac Massacre

(In response to a Tweetspeak Poetry love prompt)

 

 

On Siri

She cobbles answers from an apple
about what to wear
and what’s the score
and what the fox says.
When I ask what her favorite animal is she says,
“I wrote my master’s thesis on the
Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.”
But then her battery died before I could discover
the best flavor of ice cream
to top my pie.
So I had to eat cake.

(A comment poem in response to Charity Craig’s post “Become a Better Writer: I Am Not a Robot.”

I’ve finally started a dedicated poetry notebook as opposed to having words scattered everywhere–on the backs of envelopes, in various notebooks, and on other loose scraps of paper.

I wrote about my faith heroine for Michelle DeRusha, for the series she’s been running in conjunction with the release of her book, 50 Women Every Christian Should Know: Learning from Heroines of the Faith. It posted last Friday.

Then that piece was picked up by Precept Ministries and reprinted on their blog on Wednesday. Actually, they kind of cobbled that piece with an earlier one I wrote on my spiritual midwife–same person. I was pretty excited and honored about that.

So how was your week? What’s on tap for this week? Are you prepared for detours and surprises?

 

 

 

In the stillness (really),

Sandy

Note: Frio River photo by Tina Miller Howard (who’s also in it).