She knew it in a
prickling of her skin, even
before the sky. “Help
me get the washin’ in off
the line. It’s fixin’ to storm.”
~ Rebekah Choat
Author Archives: Becka Choat
Bits of Contentment (NaPoWriMo 2019/9)
a shower-kissed morn
a blossom new-born
a fern bathed in dew
a mourning dove’s coo
sunshine through lace
a sleeping child’s face
~ Rebekah Choat
Mary Remembers (Palm Sunday)
However long I live, I’ll not forget
the wondrous things that happened here today:
the most extraordinary man I’ve met,
astride a donkey, redolent of hay;
the people thronging ’round him as he rode –
so many we were near crushed in the fray –
till Peter left the Master’s side and strode
into the crowd, demanding they make way.
A moment’s quiet; then a growing hum
that swelled to shouts, “Lord, hear us when we pray!
Hosanna, our deliverance is come;
our God has sent His righteous one to save!”
The men laid down their cloaks along his path,
and children waved palm branches as he passed.
~ Rebekah Choat
Dr’s appt (NaPoWriMo 2019/8)
Ok, a confession. I actually wrote this one a bit over five years ago, right after being diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (RA to the initiated). But only one other person has ever seen a draft of it before now (miss you, Ros), and it fits the jargon prompt to a T. My apologies to the shocked; your regularly reserved Rebekah will be back after this brief msg.
Oh, yeah?
You write down that I’m damaged –
RA, mod to sev –
then hand me a fistful of Rx
and a card that says,
“Come back 2 wks, f/u.”
You’ve taken note of my DOB, SSN,
TxDL, Member ID, and Group #,
as well as my ht, wt, temp, and bp.
You’ve sent me to the lab for
C-RP-IH, CCP IgG/IgA-LC, and HLA-B-LC;
then on to X-ray: SI jts, 2 vws.
Don’t waste words on the pt;
you don’t have to – you’re the MD,
this is your SOP, your MO.
Well, fine. See ya,
2 wks, f/u.
~ Rebekah Choat
Simple Gifts (NaPoWriMo 2019/7)
Relief from pain, and
a sweet, strong, hot cup of tea:
simple gifts are best.
~ Rebekah Choat
Arcana (NaPoWriMo 2019/6)
We all know magic words now:
please and thank you we’re taught in pre-school,
and go on to hocus pocus, open sesame,
accio, expelliarmus; charms and curses,
names of gods and angels. Only the strongest
ones retain great power, and we forget:
Amen. Yet. If.
~ Rebekah Choat
By the Sea (NaPoWriMo 2019/5)
It was many and many a year ago –
seventy-five or -six summers or so –
near a cluster of cottages by the sea;
I can picture it still in my memory.
I was a child, and she was a child,
and I was solemn, and she was wild,
but we loved with a love that was more than love,
mixed with salt and the sea and the sun above.
We lived through that summer in fairy-tale land –
two sunburnt princesses, hair full of sand.
Then our mothers packed up, and we left with the tide
for our distant home-places; she howled, and I cried.
I waited the next year, but she never came;
and I’m never quite sure I remember her name.
~ Rebekah Choat
Catching Up (NaPoWriMo 2019)
I missed several days while camping where I couldn’t get internet connection. I’ll be double-posting the next few days to catch up.
Solitary (NaPoWriMo 2019/4)
Most sand dollars I
find are broken: roughly in
half; irregular
thirds; smaller bits. This whole one,
perhaps, never touched another.
~ Rebekah Choat
After All This Time? (NaPoWriMo 2019/3)
Love at first sight? Yes.
Love at eight dozenth sight? Still.
Love at ten thousand,
five hundred twenty-fourth sight?
This is the magic. Always.
~ Rebekah Choat
Becka's Blog 