In Search of Snow Angels

 

 

These are respite places.

Or, so we are told.

But in the interim, a simple plotted gesture for wandering souls.

I tell my lover, to make her aware.

She never hesitates to let me be.

She, alone, understands the expelling of, demons, no one else can see.

It is not mystique I seek.

Nor, blind guidance, from sacred places.

It is the silence that can only be found by…

pursuing to understand…

Understand something that will never be…

Never be completely understood.

Yet, the quest stays like a solemn secret stage.

A critiqued, columned, colloquial,

in which peace is at play.

 

A Platform of Peace

Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem

by

Maya Angelou

Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
Implore you, to stay a while with us.
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.

On this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.

At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.

We, Angels and Mortal’s, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.”

Levity Angels

Effervescent enough… for reticent paths unsung.

Words we mean to say.

Bramble clouds on a spring day.

Long, the travel, for reflection’s whisper.

Searching for answers without having certainty.

It was a sobering pact,

I made when writing…

‘first do no harm.’

Cursive letters…as tall as, an ancient New Hampshire pine.

In the nativity of my naivety…

I could walk many miles  hunting for wealth.

Alas,

no,

answer angels.

Only rocky roads of levity.

How God Created Mothers

sober

“When God Created Mothers”

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of “overtime” when the angel appeared and said. “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”

And God said, “Have you read the specs on this order?” She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 move-able parts…all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands.”

The angel shook her head slowly and said. “Six pairs of hands…. no way.”

It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” God remarked, “it’s the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have.”

A Canterbury Pray-er

That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel. God nodded.

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, ‘What are you kids doing in there?’ when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn’t but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. ‘I understand and I love you’ without so much as uttering a word.”

God,” said the angel touching his sleeve gently, “Get some rest tomorrow….”

I can’t,” said God, “I’m so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick…can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger…and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower.”

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. “It’s too soft,” she sighed.Strip away the fear

But tough!” said God excitedly. “You can imagine what this mother can do or endure.”

Can it think?”

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise,” said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model.”

It’s not a leak,” said the Lord, “It’s a tear.”

What’s it for?”

It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride.”

You are a genius, ” said the angel.

Somberly, God said, “I didn’t put it there.”

“When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it's a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.”  ― Erma Bombeck
“When your mother asks, “Do you want a piece of advice?” it’s a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no. You’re going to get it anyway.”
― Erma Bombeck

 

Have you been saved?

 

 

 

 

Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”  ― Franz Kafka
Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”
― Franz Kafka
 
 
A moral dilemma had rolled into my local town.  For that matter, it sat itself down on most of the northeast, parts of the south, all of the west and bear hugged the world…
The Truth or Dare local news sent out selfies of anchor persons with looks of confusion and pronounced images of DAH expressions!
The local networks…usually based upon 24 hours of cute kittens and huggable puppies…announced ‘doomsday‘.  The New Hampshire Homeland security agency sent out ‘hold on to your big girl panties’ emergency texts…Inconsistently, because most of the agents were busy helping old ladies cross the streets.
A small gesture has greatness with faith
A small gesture has greatness with faith
All messages whether blatant or obscured by urban slang, warned, evacuate your towns ASAP.  Pick up your trailer and find higher ground! 
‘The End is Near’ and
‘The End is Near You!’
Being a true blue blond.  Being fair of hair but loosened by too much gluttony, I gave up on my cynicism and fell for the ‘Dirty Laundry’ flashing upon my tablet’s screen.  Similar to Moses with the tree and/or bush…that some pyro’ set on fire…I knew my Higher Power had spoken to me via the change of the winds and the stare of the cats!  An epic spiritual event was about to happen and I had no one but me to blame!
Climbing upon a stolen milk crates stacked several stories high, I found room on a widow’s walk for seven cats, two dogs and one lesbian and myself (who also happens to be a queer).

Violence...unhappy dreams giving the illusion of warmth
Violence…unhappy dreams giving the illusion of warmth
I said to myself in a last gasp Marlboro Red voice,
‘Self, I trust in my Higher Power and if any of the forty legged family is in peril…an angel will fall upon me like ‘Baby Mommas to a poor town’ and save my sorry ass.
Sure enough, a text:
White Officer not indicted in the shooting of an unarmed African-American teenager…
The day rolled along, as most, ‘The End’ is always near, days go…
Yet, another text message:
NYPD cop goes unscathed after choking a young black man to death…
…As the young man pleads, I can’t breathe.  I can’t breathe!
 
As I stood amongst the fur, the ass-fault and the shingles, a neighbor shuffled by in her Moo-Moo.
‘Ruth, come down from there.  WTF!  Are you off your meds again?  Get in the Mini van and let’s head for the hills!  The shit is ’bout to hit the fan!’
I smiled a rainbow smile.  I nodded a liberal grin.  And, I calmly stated:
‘No, Dot, you and Jay Z jr., head on out.  Our angel will be coming to release us from this…a moral dilemma doomsday!’
The violent hearts kept rising higher, the languid lies, the avoided dishonesty and a world-full of not good began to overtake my mythical septic tank.
Honestly, the shit just stank!
My house filled with looking the other way.  My den became entrenched with disloyalty.  My home was soon becoming filthy with conformity and ethically bad worldly events!  There would be nothing left to do but jump!
Soon falling down would have to happen.  Soon a quiet little family from north of north…would become a blimp on the TSA‘s radar!
Franklin‘s also had a ‘up to no good’ police squad, akin to other poorly dealt authority figured small towns.  They too must have smelt a change in the air.  They too must have heeded the call, ‘if there is an accident…always wear clean underwear’!  They too came by!
‘Ruth, get you skinny white ass down off the roof.  Ruth, you’re in trouble and this time we’re telling you the truth!’
I spoke with gusto…
‘No, no, no!  Save someone else who really needs saving.  Help someone else’s cat out of a tree!’
I sent them all away.  The lack of News media, the lack of human-ness police.  The lack-less and gossip more neighbor. 
I sent them all away…Knowing an angel is on her way!
And, in the end?
Another text.  A lasting message:
Another person dies today for no reason.  Another person took another person life.  Another person will not see The End!
 
As I sat alongside my loved ones, I beckoned to the sky!  As I took a forever ending breath…I spoke to the heavens:
I put my faith in you.  You my supposed Higher Power.  I opened my mind and soul to you.  I begged you to rid me of the sadness the had fallen upon to my kin. 
Why didn’t you help me?  Why didn’t you feel my pain?  Why did you leave me in this…a shredding from the inside out world?
A sound like no other rose from the ashes of a world rotting from tooth decay.  A noise spoken from the ashes of my Ash tree.  A voice with no body.  A power covered with humility and saturated with goodness, spoke to me:
I sent you on angel.  You shot him.
I sent you another angel.  He begged you to look before you act.  You choked him.
And, lastly, I sent an angel to you each and everyday.  Each and every hour.  Each and every second.  You did not feed him.  You did not cloth her.  And, mostly, you passed them all by like they were strangers on the street.  Not the family they were.  The family you just didn’t have time to meet!