See you
In the face of the girl dancing across the circle
So much so that I stare
Think I might have to tell her
The story of the lost you
Who reminds me
Of all the other Boos
So beloved
To their Mama
Missing still
Hey, Boo
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Monthly Archives: July 2016
Quest
gone too long
A litany of good-byes
Signifying everything
We want from Light
The shapes of letters resemble
Hands raised in supplication
Bottomless things
Somewhere in between I find you
In the story you beg me not to tell
Even though you are the hero of it
The boy who quietly
Saves the headstrong girl
From so many foolish choices
Chili Recipes
slow cooked, tail-gated
Cumin-laced
Beans or no beans
Chili recipes seem innocuous enough
Unless you are a cow
Then
They are simply another
Recipe for disaster
My adopted children
any one who claims to be my legally adopted child should never under any circumstances be allowed access to my biological children
We all suffered too many felonies at their hands
Please consider this legal witness
Everyone needs a Leon
I have a dear pen pal whose autocorrect rendered “lesson” as “Leon”
…as in there is a “Leon in here somewhere.
We all need a Leon in there somewhere–nerdy a bit, but still lion fierce.
The friend who will not go
Always there
Leon.
Cleaning house
the lovely stranger
Tells us all
If this thing in front of you
Doesn’t give you joy throw it
Away
I kinda wonder about the ordinary scrub brushes thrust into the most terrible places
Do you discard them too?
Replace them with newer ones without the dark history?
Maybe keep them away from the crap
Which tangentially reminds me of
Poor Thomas Crapper–
Bringing us into modern hygiene at the expense of the family name
Don’t worry, Thomas
Your job may be thankless
Your name synonymous with
Well, crap
But I won’t forget you
Joy may be a too-strong word
For preventing public health catastrophe
But somebody gotta do it, TC
Somebody for all the rest
Our ordinary demise
While the crucifixion of Christ is overwhelmingly unbearable, the deaths of ordinary humans are awful enough.
We are all certain things when we die.
The cessation of breath is a terrifying thing. Add to that helplessness and pain–most of us avoid death the way you would avoid the edge of an unforgiving precipice or an unguarded incinerator.
John the Baptist’s death is no exception. He died as a direct result of powerful people’s sin. He died in chronological and geographical proximity to Jesus.
The howl of the unfairness of it all is unmistakable.
Which is why I stick close to men like him. What if John had not questioned Jesus? What if his grief and doubt had not been recorded in the Gospel?
…I would have fewer answers for my lesser questions…and one fewer member of my support group.
And a narrower understanding of Jesus–no Santa Claus god. Jesus commands us to focus on both who He is and what He does for us on the most primal level.
He gives us back the one thing we can never get back ourselves–eternal life.
The death of every human may seem inevitable, but who we trust with the forever after makes all the difference.
To John the Baptist and every ordinary me.
Carrying Light 