2000-2001 Part 5

My God what have you done to us.
I know you made me strong enough but for why?

2000-2001 Part 4

You cannot hurt me with those cotton sheets, but silk's unabashed glow, that does.
I'm no fan of the sliding door,
I want the anxiety of the push or pull after the clockwise or counterclockwise turn of the knob.

2000-2001 Part3

Our cat does a strange thing, It will leave a dead bird on the back step every so often. We feed it on a regular basis, my dad sometimes fumes at them for their choice of locale, and then the cat presents an offering. Do we demand worship? My ideal vision of God is one whom is not impressed or swayed with pettiness. Maturity is not independence, though. Awareness of the paradoxical order and lack thereof, may undermine, yet we are and it is. Can't that be enough.

2000-2001 Part 2

I was matched up with a 27 year-old California boy. I think it was 27 and he definitely was a boy. Blond hair, longer than the other missionaries of the group. I considered myself lucky I suppose. He made some allusions to turning his life around as he showed me his driver's license with even more hair covering his face. Spanish speaking, knocking on doors for hours. Nothing but short conversations at the open door. Then an old lady opened the door and she begged us to answer. All I remember well is the warmth, the exchange, elder to youth. She was a retired teacher, had taught for some 50 years. She must have been near 80 I suppose. I did enjoy listening to her stories, and about her children, excitement. Yet, my companion interjected many times about the church. Now, I can see no blame for his rudeness. His job, his sacrifice, his example for me required it. Yet I cannot forgive something. The church is not the issue I choose. I am fiercely angry about the sacrifice of the person for the church. The exclusion, the two sides I call Jesus. Let him stand in your midst, let him stand with the gentiles, and then with the sinners. Will you see him. I think not. She was happy to talk to us. It was difficult to exit but we did leave, and I took a turn.

2000-2001

She carried a rock with her where she went. It was a gift from her father. The rock was beautiful, grey with a black push pin seemingly pushed into it. They were connected by straight lines, criss-crossing the rough surface of the rock making it much more ordered. She holds it in her hand and admires it often. I wanted, want a rock. I threw mine in frustration into the shallow pond to see how many times it would skip. Once, from the shear force with which I threw it. There is so much more time now, so much more perceived danger. So much time to analyze my body and those of others. To see the painfully simple beauty. And the abyss of aloneness when you’ve stripped all bare and try to make the picture replace the rock I lost.

5/1/00

I am bursting

I have something
Too much to hold
Feel my touch, hear my song
Sit down next to me, My gift ... me