Out of the Sea

Small as a world, this smooth round stone
you gave to me, and large as alone,
and grey as the sea it rolled in from,
hurled on the shore to be brought home.

Within its sphere are foam and sky
and bite of salt and seagull’s cry
and height of wave and stretch of sand,
and here I hold it in my hand.

It sings a song of tideswept stars
and deeps where untold wonders are.
It keeps the memory of the wind
and brings me whispers of a friend.

I can’t be lost — it anchors me,
this smooth round stone out of the sea.

~ Rebekah Choat

 

Garden Charm

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint,
Sweetest of herbs in my garden close,
Gracing the morning with their mingled scent,
Lavender, rosemary,marjoram, mint.

Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint,
Holiness, purity, safety and peace,
Comfort, remembrance, healing, content,
Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint.

Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint,
Happiness, respite from sorrow, heart’s ease,
Brightness and deep breath and friendly intent,
Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint.

Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint,
Sweetest of herbs in my garden close,
Gracing the morning with their mingled scent,
Lavender, rosemary, marjoram, mint.

~ Rebekah Choat

Good Night Moon

 

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

The shy moon
slips through the clouds to
whisper good night.

~ Rebekah Choat

 

I’m participating in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). Today is the first day I’ve really followed the prompt provided – to write a lune, a sort of simplified haiku counting words 3/5/3 instead of syllables 5/7/5.

We Stand to Prayer

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

The splendour of Nirvana is not ours,
We have no middle eye, no mystic wings,
And our brief visions take us unawares.
We stand to prayer as rows of earthen jars
Whose dark mouths open onto hidden things:
A secret kingdom where the poor are kings.

Here is an image of that inner place,
The quiet mountain country of the soul
With silver pools where lions drink their fill
And the pale unicorns lie down in peace.
Here is an emblem of the hidden grace
Beneath the flux and turmoil of what happens,
A quiet kingdom where the silence deepens,
Whose heart is hallowed by the Prince of Peace.

~ Malcolm Guite

God speaks to each of us

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you:  beauty and terror.
Just keep going.  No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

When I Am Among the Trees

image by Rebekah Choat

image by Rebekah Choat

When I Am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

Shadows, Part Six

image copyright Joel Brotzman

image copyright Joel Brotzman

shad – ow (n):  a relected image

 I find this image, taken by my brother, intriguing.  I’m fascinated with how the trees and shrubs and algae, so much green mingled together, are crowded and hard to distinguish from each other; yet the shadow reflected on the surface of the pond is somehow serene, and shows a crisply clear image of a treetop not itself visible in the picture.

I had a good talk with a good friend last night.  Big, important things are happening in both our lives – so quickly in mine that it’s something of a blur, so slowly in his that there hardly seems to be any progress at all.  At either pace, it’s hard, nearly impossible sometimes, to see things clearly, to find a focal point.

My friend and I serve as sounding boards and mirrors for each other.   We can pour out our jumbled thoughts and mixed feelings and talk things through and share different perspectives until somehow our vision comes a little clearer.  Once in a while we can even see a lovely reflection of a beauty not visible in the current frame of the picture.

a druid way…

Brazos Bend 4

a found poem from Frederick Buechner’s Brendan

a druid way of saying God –
the rustling of oak leaves,
the sound of shallow waves against the rocks,
the feel of mist drifting knee deep
over the blue folds and hollows of the hills.

~ Rebekah Choat