Category Archives: angels

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Hole in the wall

The walls of rock at Arches National Park are so amazing. And are they arches or are they holes in the wall? And a hole in the wall doesn’t imply the majesty of arches or how amazing the remaining section of rock above us. Magical, amazing, unbelievable, astounding.

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Wild

I keep wondering at the stubborn part of me that will not let go.
 That wants to reconcile with all, no matter what they’ve done.
 I go inside, deep and deeper, in the depths all is slow.
 That part is the holy part that longs for the One.
 I have been told to let go of things, forget, no more longing.
 But the longing is a sacred place, a longing for the Beloved.
 I think that excising it would be a horrid evil wronging.
 Handle gently, with care, with love, and gently gloved.
 I meet someone who says, “You are very in touch with your inner child.”
 I know it’s not a compliment, I smile and pay little mind.
 My Child is my connection to the Beloved, fierce and mild.
 Jealous judging rolls right off, people can be unkind.
 I won’t excise the holy core, the Beloved inner child.
 I feel the Beloved’s laughing play and joy, heart running wild.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: realize.

https://www.playingforchange.com/videos/words-of-wonder-get-up-stand-up-song-around-the-world

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Affrayed

“Be not affrayed,” said the Angel, “and don’t get into fights.”

“So why do you have a sword?” said the little girl.

“Well,” said the Angel, hiding the sword behind their back, “people are affrayed and tend to behave when they see it.”

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: affray.

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Tornado

I am having nightmares most nights. I don’t think they are about work any more: I think they are about the wars and the people being killed and terror on both sides. That is what terrifies me.

I am in a very big hotel, down near the ground floor at a conference center. There is an announcement: “There is a very violent tornado on the ground, take shelter.” People at the windows are exclaiming. I go to the picture window and see a huge tornado. But I also see my ex-husband and another man, talking, facing me. How can they not hear the tornado? I want to shout, but they won’t hear me through the thick glass. The tornado swallows them and I find a place near the windows. I am on the floor, arms and legs wrapped around an old style radiator attached to the wall. I hope this will keep me from being sucked out as the windows break, and if the building comes down, I am near an outer wall.

I wake up.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: terror.

I took the photograph on a train going from Edmonds, Washington to Chicago, IL in July 2014. This is a beautiful and terrifying storm.

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Fun in hell

Even when I go through hell on earth
mother dies, marriage crumbles
sister cancer, father cries
divorce, sister dies
pneumonia, pneumonia, pneumonia
can’t breathe and still have to defend myself
when accused of crazy and reported
Bitch is not a psychiatric disorder
hypoxia is not a psychiatric disorder
my cousin helps my niece to sue me
I never thought my family would have lawsuits
never
yet my sister sets them to explode
after she dies

I don’t quite die
though it is pretty rough
and grief tears at my throat
like a wolf, like a lion
like a hyena,
piranhas
I have two children and I stay
because they do not deserve this mess
I guard and fight and stay present

And there is laughter
even in hell
I time a comment and my daughter
snorts milk out her nose
I tell my children I shouldn’t handle knives
because of a meeting at work
“Five against one?” says my son
“Yes,” I say
“Well, they didn’t have enough people, did they?”
And I laugh and we go out to dinner.

Is this my fault?
Is it something I did?
The marriage was me, yes,
I do two years of counseling
trying to understand
I can’t change it
but maybe I can understand

A sort of a friend
ok
a false friend
a liar
says he never changes.
I say I always try to learn
I want to know
I want to grow
how can he not grow?
how can he refuse to learn?

he doesn’t talk to me any more
he stops speaking to people forever
but
there is no forever
there is now and the Beloved
and the dark and the light are united
after death
will you be a proton
or an electron
or gravity?

There are hells on earth
worse than mine
prayers
I send prayers
for the innocents
everyone was newborn
and innocent
once

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Comfortable with angles

I am thinking about monsters
That I am comfortable with the monsters
in my dreams
but terrified by the angels.
Though I type angles.

But I also dream that all the angels fall
all are made to fall
they fall down then back up
when they fall down they burn
if they fall here
burn in the atmosphere
then they are red or black and burnt
and we think they are devils: monsters.

If angels are monsters
and monsters are angels
and they go back and forth
and I type angles
because everyone makes mistakes
even angels
and to make something perfect
is an offense to the Beloved
because only the Beloved is perfect
and ineffable.

Still the angels.
I am afraid.
So was Mary, sore afraid.
Monsters are easy: at worst they can kill me
and they never have
in my dreams.
And they are sad and alone and weep.
I comfort them. Which makes them afraid,
because they are not used to being loved.
I wonder if I frighten them
like the angels frighten me.

And then I can understand
a little
of why the angels frighten me so much.
I too am not used
to feeling loved.

written September 13, 2023

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bread winner. But I can’t eat gluten any more and my lungs are too vulnerable for the work I love. So how bread and how winner? Maybe the angels and angles and monsters will tell me.

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In deep

Time to return
again

Human, pfaugh
I give up
I don’t want to be one
I can be anything I want to be
I want to be a mermaid
again

I sink into the sea
and down to the depths
scales and tail and breathe the sea
the water cools the burns
my charred burnt skin
and lungs

Such a fail again
every time I try
to be human
yes, legs, I can do that
it always makes my voice hurt
but those damn wings
come with the legs

It’s hard to hide the wings.

I don’t know how
but they sense them
even when I hide them

It really pisses me off.
It’s the broken ones that show up
though now I think maybe
they are all broken
they all wander around
pretending they are ok
using lies to try to appear nice
hating parts of themselves
calling those parts unclean spirits
and casting them out
DEMON! DEVIL!
over and over

I try to pretend they aren’t there
the cast out
and I am human too
but the demons kneel and lay their monstrous heads
in my lap
crying
cluster round me
begging for my help

I always fail.

I try to stay present
with the person and the cast out
but eventually I can’t stand it
and I say something wrong
and the stupid human thinks I am the demon
and casts me out too.

I wait and hope.

I wait and hope with the monsters
with the rough beasts.
“You have wings,” say the demons, “Help us!”
“I can’t.” I say, “The humans must help themselves.”
The monsters weep and wail.
Finally I am sick of it again.
I send them home
and I go home too.
I have failed again
and must endure falling through the atmosphere
my feathers and skin a burning star

I am sick of it.
I give up, Beloved.
I am a failure.
I can’t do this.
I must go to the sea again.

Here is the trench, the deepest part of the ocean
I stop swimming and let myself sink
Slowly the light disappears
I am in the ink black

Slowly the others appear
glowing
in the deep

_________________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: liquid.

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Enemy

A friend and I are talking this morning and he is talking about praying daily. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”. That turns into a discussion of enemies and ourselves. It’s easier to have an external enemy identified than to deal with ourselves, isn’t it? Here is today’s poem.

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Enemy

Do you have an enemy?

Do I have an enemy?

maybe I have no enemy
I have people I have forgiven
I have people who I have asked to forgive me
I have people I have forgiven
but keep distanced
no reconciliation
possible if they continue abuse
blind and deaf
saying “We are righteous!”
over and over to each other

A book teaches me
asks what are you most proud of
in yourself?
Three things:
strong, smart, tough.
The mirror is what you fear the most
weak, foolish, vulnerable
I shy back, hate the author
and he is correct
at least for me

Like the sutra
sometimes I am weak
sometimes I am foolish
sometimes I am vulnerable

When there is a person
or people
I want to hate
What aspect of myself
of my past
of my psyche
are they bringing up?
Are they stronger, smarter, tougher?
Are they weaker, foolish, more vulnerable?
Why do I want to hate them?

It’s easier, I see
to hate another person
and cast them out like a demon
then to look in the mirror
and see the aspect of myself
that I long so much
to hate

That demon
once cast out
will return with seven more

Mirror mirror
on the wall
tell my why
the angels fall

if an angel gets it’s wings
every time a bell rings
each time we hate another, as well
an angel falls heaven to hell