Saint Gertrude Day!(a day late)

A Prayer to St. Gertrude, Patron Saint of Cats

Dearest Gertie, ask you I pray…

watch over the evil little cats…this and everyday.

Protect them from those who wish them ill.

Keep them at home…four tiny paws…safe from the snowstorm.

Give me the serenity to accept their indifference to me.

                the courage to be humble in their presence

and…     the wisdom to hide all breakables I wish to keep.

Protect my lawn furniture from the neighborhood Tom Cat.

And, Gert, a last thing I beseech from thee.

Please don’t let them kill me in my sleep.

-Amen

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Patron Saint of Cats…Sista Gert believed in her visions.  She believed in purgatory.  She believed…rodents, mice, etc., were handmaiden’s to hell’s highway.  The only way to rid the heavens and earth of this evil?  Cats!

Which as a cat owner, I can now understand.  Gert knew that there was a hell out there.  Possibly she had a ‘vision’ of where we now stand with Trump.  One thing led to another.  The ‘visions’ got worse.  Hell came in the form of rats.  And, Gert did not figure out until late in life…get a cat!

The cat solved the infestation.tumblr_p5qjeh6jca1rmxjpho1_540

So she chilled, as she grew older, with cats.

Hence Patron Saint of Cats!

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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.”

Rejuvenated Faith

A color of faded cotton perks and pokes a quiet and basic day.

Somewhat like a rural assent fed with freedom…

Drawn with tints of rejuvenation.

My same old stroll is teaming with wise colors.

Tangled with piped dreams of syrup.

No matters of coincidence

with the ancient cemetery or forgotten farm.

Even the decadent find rejuvenated faith…

in the sun’s soothing charm.

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Chaos and Calm, Collide

In reference to another life, I heard that, IT would always be something.

A hiccup, a laugh…

or, poorly chosen path.

A manner for chaos to collide.

And, my body, tossed to one side.

Could the specter have been…

a Caroler or poet?

To this day, I am really not sure which.

But deep in the rosy flower of my heart.

A road appears sunlit.

Whilst the foliage be stark.imageedit_18_8840533204

Daily Meditation of a Democrat

In the turmoil…that is when faith works best-RandomwordbyRuth

My faith demands – this is not optional – my faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I can, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference…

America did not invent human rights. In a very real sense… human rights invented America.

##Jimmy Carter