Monday, January 7, 2008

Goodnight, Easton

"A Lullaby"
Quiet now, child of mine,
and lay your head to rest
while the moon
is bidding you to slumber.

Sleep, and dream to
Heaven where the
Shepherd gathers the
flock of pure hearts.

What light is it that
falls upon your face
as the night has settled?
Surely you dream of God,
and the angels teach you.

Let Heaven keep you
always still
while I sweep the day's
dust from your cheek -
while I rid you of the
bitter fruit of my failings.
Let Heaven guard you
from the lightlessness that
settles upon so many faces.

Hush now, child of mine,
the good are sleeping.
Rest until
the break of the morning,
for on the morrow
you will be my stillness
when the world is falling.

Tonight, like every other night, I was laying in Easton's bed singing to him. And just like I always do, I thought of how much he amazes me. The love that I feel from him and for him is tremendous. He is so good and pure, and his face is so beautiful. Just watching him at night makes me think of how good little children are. I know that is why the Lord tells us to be like little children. You can't help but to just love them. And they love us despite all the bad habits we have.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Thoughts on a Nature Walk

"The Road Unbends"
The road unbends for me
between the river and great mountains
that have stood for centuries.
The dark night has settled.
A pale, thin sheet masks that stars,
but they faintly glow, and if I
gaze long enough
they appear to me.

In the mountains
I receive the earth's nourishment.
It assures me that it knows, for
it has been for countless centuries
a mother's heart
a father's unshaking arm.
The leaves rustle, and I forget
my uneasiness.
The river is steady so that I
may follow it until it resigns
and find a stillness there.

God is resting here
in His own earth. On this path
I could walk the extent
of my life, for here it is quiet,
and His voice is unbroken.

On this path knots untie themselves.
Complexities are constricted
into simple forms, and God
speaks without interruptions.
Here, time cannot unravel me.

On this night
I utter no words - I say nothing.
In nature, conversations
are spoken silently.
Not even a whisper, and it
hears what is in me.
I embrace its response.
Though is often says nothing,
I hear it listen.

Love at a Distance

"Alteration"
Here, within the solitary walls
of my room, in the quiet unresponse
of this small city,
I am taunted by the absence of your
summer eyes
your warmth and pure intent
embedded tenderly in the midst of my recollection.
Each night after the
long day's continuance of miles
between us I fall asleep
embraced by the remembrance of
your arms and my home in them.
These cold cruel miles like
prison bars standing erect and immovable
in the center of us
Great canyons that have thrust through
the surface to alter our perfect valley.

For My Husband

"Enough"
Only a few days left,
their temporary character being of no
consolation to me.
I cannot keep you near enough
stay wrapped in the warmth of
your embrace long enough.
Its lack of permanence drives a longing
to the tips of my fingers-
hands that cannot be held by yours completely enough.
The abscence of time appears
with its ugliest face to let
distance lengthen itself
thoughtlessly between us.
I have filled the days with a
thousand things of you,
and, yet still, I will not
have you near enough.

Watching Shooting Stars

"Shower at 3 a.m."
When the deep blue expanse exhales,
the blazing stones that have lingered
beyond my eyes for centuries in
willing submission
are sent on their way.
As the sky hollows its lungs,
loosens its grip,
the stars shoot off gratefully,
my eys losing the chase, and they
disappear forever to me.
In this rare and unfiltered
segment of our humble lives
we pause to pay our respects to
what is greater than us, and it
sends its regard our way.
The stars in their tiny form outnumber
the count of our eyes.
So, too, are we.

Friday, January 4, 2008

About Motherhood

"Fruit of My Labors"
The day is through,
and you are fast asleep
upon my shoulder
while the dishes are
in the sink
and crumbs are
on the floor.
Dust has settled on the
cherry picture frames,
and baseboards
have been neglected.
Because today
I was just your mother.
We sang, and I
taught you some letters.
We played, then
I hugged and kissed you.
You cried,
and I held you
I cleaned, clothed, and fed you.
Tonight we prayed
together while the tasks
were left undone.
Now you are asleep
upon my shoulder
after a day's worth of
all that I taught you.
And before I look around
and see failure,
I kiss the child resting
in my arms,
and I think of you -
the result of my toils,
the sweet fruit
of my labors.
-7/23/06

A Poem About Easton

"Easton's Eyes"
I know those eyes -
They say what hearts
cannot tell.
They whisper that
all is right in this moment
with you in my arms
and I in your gaze.
Life is still,
sorrows lie down,
and we are all that
are breathing.
They sing the song
that only you and I
know the words to,
the song of mother
and child.
Those eyes are a window
to where God is -
two lights telling that
all is not dark,
all is not empty.
For there is purity and
promise in the
eyes of my child.