Category Archives: poetry

Poetry for our times – Adrienne Rich

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What Kind of Times Are These

(By Adrienne Rich)

There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill

and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows

near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted

who disappeared into those shadows.

I’ve walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don’t be fooled

this isn’t a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,

our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,

its own ways of making people disappear.

I won’t tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods

meeting the unmarked strip of light—

ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:

I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won’t tell you where it is, so why do I tell you

anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these

to have you listen at all, it’s necessary

to talk about trees.

Copyright Credit: Adrienne Rich, “What Kind of Times are These” from Collected Poems: 1950-2012. Copyright © 2016 by The Adrienne Rich Literary Trust.  Copyright © 1995 Adrienne Rich. Reprinted by permission of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc..

Source: Dark Fields of the Republic: Poems 1991-1995 (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 1995)

A friend shared this poem with me this morning, and so I share it with you. In these times where we stand and who we listen to, and what we choose to see are important.

Peace for Us – a poem for this moment

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This morning as we grapple with the death dealing decision of the current occupant of the White House to choose destruction over diplomacy, with far reaching consequences we can only imagine, I found myself praying with this poem by my friend Susan. She has been in heaven more than 5 years now. Praying with her wisdom and insight and wonderful way with words in this disturbing moment, and counting on her to whisper into the ear of her loving God on our behalf.

Peace for Us
by Sister Susan Dewitt, CSJP

You who are peace for us
came among us into such trouble,
into the Emperor’s world of calculations,
straight roads, good money, crucifixions.

You who are peace for us
came among us into a conquered people,
unfashionable stubborn believers
in the promise and the Word.

You came to a serving woman,
who trusted the impossible promise
you who are peace for us
would bring to birth in her,

You came naked and helpless,
you who are peace for us,
asking us to hold you, feed you,
asking us to help you grow

You ask us now to help you
to make a place for you
who are peace for us
among our tangled riches,

our politics, anger and fear,
to be the womb that holds you,
to be the milk that feeds you,
to be peace for you.

In the rising sun

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Morning prayer from Sounds of the Eternal: A Celtic Psalter by John Philip Newell …

Early in the morning we seek your presence, O God,

not because you are ever absent from us

but because often we are absent from you

at thr heart of each moment

where you forever dwell.

In the rising sun,

in the unfolding colour and shape of the morning

open our eyes to the mystery of this moment

that in every moment

we may know your life-giving presence.

Open our eyes to this moment

that in every moment

we may know you as the One who is always now

.

(Saturday morning opening prayer, pg. 74)

Coffee, prayer and a very busy squirrel

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This morning
I luxuriated in the day
Cool autumn breeze
Sunlight illuminating everything
And the leaves and the lake
I sit and watch with my coffee
to keep me
company

What better way
to be
to pray
to sit with the wonder of it
all

From time to time
I spy
with my little eye
a very busy
squirrel

The first sighting
he or she
I see has a mouthful of
leaves

The squirrel freezes
perfectly still
looking at me
-nothing to see here-
but then apparently decides
I am not
dangerous

Next squirrel sighting
is high up in the branches
of a tall
evergreen

Then jumping back to the
mostly barren
branches of the next door
tree

Then the ground
for more leaves
Bunches and bunches
Mouthful upon mouthful of
leaves

Jumping
climbing
building a nest
actually called a
drey

(No the squirrel did not tell me,
that would be the internet)

Busy squirrel
Not so busy me
On a sunny autumn
morning

Amen

Rising

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I pray with the rising sun

confident that a new day is on its way.

I rejoice with the birds in the air

and the symphony of creepy and crawly things,

knowing that all good things come from God.

I reflect on the swirly waters,

shifting this way and that

directed by the tides and the wind and

chance.

I step into this new day

in the company of the newly risen sun

ready to shine and to love and to live.

For God is good

All creation is good

We are good

And goodness flows like a river

even in murky waters.

Retreat Schedule

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I expect myself to retreat to the still

quiet, familiar space

within.

Silence. Reflection.

Maybe some spiritual reading and a contemplative walk, or two or three or four.

Unplanned, yet if I’m honest, planned, with just a little room for the unexpected.

(We are talking about spending time with the God of surprises after all).

A few days in, I take stock of the surprises (so far).

Egret upon egret upon egret. And heron after heron.

And one day, a certain Ms. Egret and Mr. Heron met their neighbor the alligator for a fresh fish lunch (byof). I have photographic evidence.

Busy lizzards, or are they geckos? Defying gravity by walking sideways on the wall. Like spiderman. Or spidergecko. Or geckoman?

So much life, all around, in relationship through the ups and downs.

And the clouds!

Sunshine breaking through or simple shades of white and grey, darkness and light dancing with the wind.

And perhaps most unexpected of all was finding myself,

in my room,

having a dance party with God, of all things.

Not once but twice. (So far).

There is no photographic evidence, thank the maker.

God finds us where we are. Scheduled or not.

If we but perceive and receive.

Goodness abounds

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This prayer was on my heart this last morning of retreat:

I awoke this morning

to the rising sun

and the mist hovering over the waters, just so.

Goodness abounds.

Within me, around me, above me, beyond me.

Mercy upon mercy upon mercy,

grace piled upon grace.

Behold I am always doing something new, says the God of surprises.

Do you not perceive it?

Kiss of the wind

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Sometimes you need to sit

with the trees and listen

to the whistle of the leaves,

so that when

you

turn your head

you feel

the kiss of the wind

on your cheek,

just so.

The sunlight shining through the bare branches of the winter trees,

yearning for spring,

ready in hope for the

fulfillment of the promise.

The birds sing,

and suddenly you know

once again you remember,

all of this is love.

God is love.

Love.

We wait

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We wait in hope

for the day when no one goes hungry or feels unwelcome.

We wait in hope for courageous leaders who are also kind and just,

for peace to prevail, and

for the possibility of togetherness to overcome division.

We wait in hope with Mother Earth, our common home,

that human activity will not spell doom after all.

We wait in hope for the in-breaking of love, God among us, Emmanuel.

We wait, yes, but we also know that we

We must act

… choose goodness

… be kind

… move beyond impossibility

… promise to love, listen, live, laugh

no matter what

Because the in-breaking of love begins

has already begun

even as we wait.