Faith, Family, & Focaccia

A faith and culture Mommy blog, because real life gets all mixed together like that.


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Be With: Day 29 of the April Poetry Challenge

No introduction today. Sometimes the soul can only speak in poetry.


 

 

Be With

 

“I just want to be with you.”

my child’s plea

so sweet,

so simple.

a stutter trying to interrupt the fast-revolving wheel

my spinning presence

in no moment standing still.

It feels unnatural to stop

with no objective

no self-validating task.

to only be

be with.

And later, open journal in my lap,

I grope for prayer,

for words to wake a passion in my soul,

to feel connection to a God I’ve walked with for so long

but feels tonight so far away.

Then, as my pen spills ink across a page

of spinning words, I feel an urge

a child’s longing

simple words that spell themselves

into my prayer.

I just want to be with you for a while

be with.

An image that my daughter loves

presents itself to eyes closed more in weariness than prayer.

The sister who sat at her master’s feet*

eschewing spinning,

whirling,

soul-consuming tasks

to sit and learn.

“She chose the better part.”

Rebuke refused, and welcome given her instead,

the disciple who knew how to be

be with.

I want to be that eager girl

whose eagerness leads not to movement, but to peace

to patient sitting,

waiting,

listening,

knowing I will

find all that I seek

and even more

if I can simply learn to be

be with.

 

* The sisters referenced are Mary and Martha, whose story is told in Luke 10:38-42.


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Prayer on the Wind: Day 24 of the April Poetry Challenge

Yesterday I learned about a new form of poetry: Tanka. Tanka is like the big sister of Haiku, a little bigger and maybe a bit more grown-up. Although I understand the syllable count is not a strict requirement, the Tanka adds two lines (each of 7-ish syllables) to the 5-7-5 structure of the Haiku. While offering more freedom, Tanka is also more focused – presenting an image from the natural world and then expressing emotional meaning through that image.

I read that description and immediately knew I wanted to try it. Thankfully the day’s weather offered a perfect manifestation of the natural world to inspire me. The picture window off my dining room presented the picture of a warm New Jersey spring, but the wind that wrapped around my legs and tossed my hair the moment I stepped outside felt more like a mistral – the cold, strong gusts that tug at the Mediterranean coasts during this seasonal transition.

It was disappointing. The Winter that greeted our return to New Jersey has been so cold and long and – frankly – unwelcoming, that I am longing for Spring to really and truly arrive and tell me that this is where I belong. I don’t want to be blown back across the Atlantic when I am trying so hard to build my life here.

But then a memory of another Mediterranean wind blew into my mind and stopped my grumbling. It was the Summer wind that enchanted my daughter and I on the Greek island of Tinos and inspired one of my first ever blog posts. (That post is still one of my favorite things I have ever written – click here if you are curious). Sometimes the power of the wind cannot be measured in physical force.


 

Prayer on the Wind

 

The wind blows today

harder than I want, but then

I remember when

island wind blew through her hair

and taught my soul a prayer.