PRAYER: UNFINISHED
Lord, I feel so unfinished –
like an unfinished
conversation or basement.
There is so much more to say,
so much more to do. It’s true.
Will anything ever be finished?
Lord, get me to laugh at all this,
because you are never finished.
You are an unfinished Creator,
You are an unfinished Conversation.
© Andrew Costello 2007
POEM: FLIP OF THE COIN
Slowly I realized
we were playing
by your rules
for the game:
“Heads you win;
tails I lose.”
© Andrew Costello 2007
POEM: GOOD NEWS
In bold, plain, clear words,
I simply want to report
that some people are beautiful,
like the nurse this morning
who offered me coffee,
or the drivers of the 3 cars
that stopped to help push a car
that had skidded off the road
because of the ice.
Most news is good news
if you stay on the right channel.
© Andrew Costello 2007
POEM:
PLAYING DIFFERENT NOTES
The mother sits there
on the edge of her seat,
her daughter’s first piano concert,
both mimicking each other,
all twenty fingers in concert,
playing each note together.
The father sits there
on the edge of his seat,
his son’s first Little League game,
both mimicking each other,
all four hands in concert,
making each catch together.
The grandparents sit there
way back in their seats,
their grandson’s first piano concert,
their granddaughters first game at shortstop,
smiling at their children
on the edge of their seats.
© Andrew Costello 2007
POEM: WHAT LASTS?
Sitting here with a slow cup
of morning coffee,
before I’m off to the hospital
to see her.
“Lord, please get her better soon.”
The clear glass salt shaker
and sugar bowl
we received at our wedding
43 years ago this month,
still sit there on our 2nd kitchen table,
in this our 3rd home.
Our kids are gone,
off on their own.
At times we don’t miss them,
as much as our grandkids.
I sit here all alone
missing her and our long love affair,
our quiet breakfasts: eggs,
coffee and cornflakes,
and her smiling command,
“No sugar! No salt!”
and she’s the one in the hospital.
© Andrew Costello 2007
Somewhere inside all of us
is a mahogany box.
It’s hidden there
under a bed or on top of a closet shelf
or in the bottom drawer of our soul.
Inside are the important papers,
letters, photos of a lifetime.
It’s important to give the key
and the location of the box
to someone before we die.
© Andrew Costello 2007
POEM: GRRRRR!
And he would
grind his teeth and growl.
And he was
against immigrants and illegals,
and anyone who didn’t speak his language.
Everyone understood him.
“Grrrr!” is the same in every language.
And he was
against evolution.
It was obvious.
© Andrew Costello 2007
