And the Easter person?
Gets that little itch,
behind your garden boot,
near your secateur trigger,
off the rake’s handle,
by the soil-spiculed-spade tip,
to go out into your garden of rebirth,
even when the late winter wind says no.
We are an Easter people,
not by choice or faith or creed
but by necessity of digging
tenderly beside that budding bulb
enjoying sun’s lengthening…
from “Easter People” in I am Keats as you are by Glenn Peirson]
my husband gave me this Moai head replica the other day because of my long time fascination with the Easter Island gods. I hadn’t made the connection with Glenn’s poem until then… en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moai#/media/File:AhuTongariki.JPG
Date: February 24, 2009
Subject: another update …
Don’t get me wrong. Ramping up one’s emotions, strengthening one’s body, re-girding one’s loins is no fun or easy or simple process. There is a chronic and diminishing fatigue to not escaping the need for treatment. However, this is my lot, for whatever reason, our lot in life at present. We pray for chronicity of disease and we’ve had that for 2 years now. We neither put our heads in the sand nor dwell in despair.
The truth is that my chances of cure are small, but my chance of living well and longer are good. This is our reality. Mary and I are optimists by choice and necessity, though some days don’t jive with this positively-minded model. We have always been excellent communicators with one another, even when she is wrong (oops … I am now receiving some clearly-communicated feedback here), but there is an undercurrent of anxiety that we share. It oscillates underneath our life, occasionally splashing through and dampening our spirits, but even as we cope well, have fun with our kids, and live life, the undercurrent is there, often unspoken of, coursing along, unwanted but recognized.
So that is us at present. Reconnected to the structure of treatment, a vital blend of down and up-side. My focus? Continue reading don’t get me wrong
(April 12, 2009)
We are all an Easter people,
even if not religious in any particular way
or perhaps not at all.
The Christians tend to celebrate Easter-peopled-ness,
not in any proud or holier-than-thou manner,
but as an optimistic promise
Holy Week unwinding
kind of way.
But, we are all an Easter people,
at least we Canadians
save those in Victoria or Point Pelee.
Everywhere else, in this often frigid place,
and some of those Scandinavian places too,
Siberia maybe, and Greenland (ha!),
we and they are Easter people.
We live the life of rebirth,
relife, rekindled in our frozen ground,
crocus, snowdrop, scilla,
poking through winter’s death
every early Spring.
Coincident with Easter,
resurrected even if forgotten bulb,
springs to life
just like our dead God.
Continue reading two great loves – Lent & Gardening
My concern is ugliness
not the exploration of such for poetic purpose
nor the need for all poetry to be beautiful
but rather the objective of ugliness for its own sake
whether salacious, violent, abusive, degrading to spirit
exploitive, harmful, absolutely non-edifying
and sadly, as a bottom line, evil
Continue reading the rebirth of a dormant idea
April 5, 2005: Maundy Thursday
(February 8, 2009 and before)
“This bread I break was once the oat”
was once my Maundy Thursday
was once my body before the break.
“The great wonder,” she writes,
“is that the human cells of His flesh and bone
and I wondered, that Thursday,
as I observed the clear fluid
trickling down the tubing
would those inhuman cells explode?
Continue reading Maundy Thursday