Eulogizing Joe

Posted on April 13, 2019 by Elea Lee

Methuselah lived 969 years, which means that at just over 100, my grandfather was a spring chicken, as lifespans go. That notwithstanding he got a lot done. Married, participated in at least three wars, fathered children, buried some. Lost a wife, found another, called me his oldest unmarried granddaughter for as long as it applied.

I loved him in all his iterations, in all his familiar imperfections, but I know Someone who loves him more.

The One who is the Road

The All and Only

Road Home.

Psalm 116

The Supine Condition

Posted on April 11, 2019 by Elea Lee

It helps me sometimes, to picture all of us in our sheep costumes, thin elastic chin straps, holding on our faces.

Helps me to remember

We are all sheep

If you don’t count the wolves among us

And all we, like sheep have gone astray

So you will not be the one to forgive my helpless anger

At all the lambs lost to slaughter

While the Shepherd was away.

Carried Over

Posted on April 9, 2019 by Elea Lee

We are collectively surprised at how ephemeral the boat is, balloonish, easily punctured. As are we. I wonder if the others have drawn the same conclusions-we have become ghosts in our erstwhile stories, still haunted by the house, by the spouse, by the hope we left behind.

Only Lazarus whistles a chipper tune. Why is he so happy? Because nothing is a cool hand to lose.

Sail Home

Posted on April 6, 2019 by Elea Lee

I bought a boat in the hill country, she says to herself,

In this place where the Sky always becomes an ocean

We have lost so much, but I will have this beat-up John boat, recompense for years ago when I

Told you, leave your anger and walk home from here

As though we all don’t have to do that

As though there is any other way for stone-cold prodigals to

come home

The Freeze Tag Conspiracy

Posted on April 5, 2019 by Elea Lee

Anger is a strong drink in the deep watches of the night. I have kept all the words, all the words for sorrow, loss, and the island, but there are children in the sun swept piazza, bell-less bell tower, and the sheltered colonnade perfect for freeze tag, as the sun goes down, beautiful ring-leader

conspiring to keep you will always be so different than conspiring to

Let you go.

Wedding Cake

Posted on April 4, 2019 by Elea Lee

You tell yourself it is just food, knowing you want

To keep it for another time

when you could rejoice

For a year, for the first year after, for as long as it takes

like the frozen wedding cake

As though love could last forever

The way he says it does

Manna in our wilderness

Rude Interrogatory

Posted on March 29, 2019 by Elea Lee

I try to establish timeline–

It was the spring…close to Passover

How long had you been dying?

How long had you? he retorts, not angry, incisive.

Surely I have touched a nerve, who else gets bullied for coming back from the dead?

But it is the one question he answers, the one time I hear his speaking voice–

Same as you, from the moment I was born.

To lighten the mood

Posted on March 28, 2019 by Elea Lee

John 11:14 NIV

[14] So then he told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead,

I tell him the questions I still have which remain unanswered, and when we are sad together I ask him about his singing voice, say I don’t worry about the faults in mine anymore

Both of us so far gone now

Past the scrim of polite society

The Waiting Room

Posted on March 27, 2019 by Elea Lee

John 11:1,3 KJV

[1] Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. [3] Therefore his sisters sent unto him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.

In the waiting room, I try to act casual, as though I have not followed him here, studied his story, combed it for gaps and terrible silence.

I prattle on about my own sodden sorrow

Unsurprisingly, he is an excellent listener.

But he holds his peace, his haunting piece, tragedy and conjecture, punctuated by improbable

Glory

Eleazar

Posted on March 26, 2019 by Elea Lee

John 11:3 KJV

[3] Therefore his sisters sent unto him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.

In my hunger I sit with him, follow him from room to room. Marvel at his silence

He does not have to tell me what we both already know, but I trail him regardless

Want something from him

Whether it is what he saw so long ago now or what he will not say

About the days of our mutual confinement

Carrying Light

Words for light

Category Archives: God