day five

 

piety's strain

trying

to sift out

disappointments

You waited till i found

letdown wasn't put out

and put down striving
till i found You waiting

this day was one peppered with frustration over my bed rest orders, despite the fact that i had the privilege of being so "confined" in a beach town at a lovely b&b. with the frustration came guilt, then the foolishness of trying to right myself for the (hidden) fear that God was shaking his head at me and my whining. he is not so, mortal with ploys. the truth about him looks more like this (Isaiah 30:18):

     the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
          he rises to show you compassion.
     for the LORD is a God of justice.
          blessed are all who wait for him!

* * *

poem written by c. l. atkinson

bonnie beams

i see 

who she is -

though you may

mistake

deeming fake

the heartlight

perpetually shown -

 maybe because as her child

i relate

for the cynics

in us

are not left 

overgrown

this little poem is part of an early Mother's Day exercise. written about my beautiful, childlike mom, it relates other things, too - like, how i'll rock the boat of others' perceptions, pointing out who or what they may have misunderstood.  this quality often tops my list of Jesus' best.  (don't get me started on how missed he is.) to his credit alone, i have even learned to jump in more, to let my own vessel be tossed about.

* * *

poem written by c. l. atkinson

day two greets me

before eyes open

my ears recognize

sweet dawn is greeting

with winged chorus outside

night's heat is exchanged

by the drapes being blown

in a dance with soft breezes

at windows wide thrown

my body now wakes

in new strength from true rest

as my heart remembers

this hour as best

morning offers

something of Glory

 * * *

another post to join L. L. Barkat and this week's On, In and Around Mondays 

poem written by c. l. atkinson

day one

At 24 weeks pregnant with my fourth child, I've been put on bed rest.  Yesterday was Easter and the first day on such orders.  I enjoyed a quiet day at home while Kenn and the kids spent the holiday at the grandparents'.  Kenn did make a trip back to deliver to me a portion of the turkey dinner they'd all shared.

As I sat alone eating that meal, sadness began to creep in - mostly in the shape of self-pity.  Barely noticeable at first, I caught it and then looked it in its face. What are you pouting over? This is a loss imagined, not a fit place for grief.  I was holding man's traditions, a holiday, against the meaning of life preserved. And the life beginning inside of me.  This baby missed, now that would be a loss!

Gratitude returned just as fast as those woes had appeared and the food was consumed, reminding me that Resurrection is not a one-day hoopla and Rest is a longed-for gift.

(Written for On, In and Around Mondays.)