RETREAT

A
time
to just sit
under the tree of self,
just to have some time
to be quiet by the water,
to think, to reflect, to pray,
to realize I’m sitting upon roots,
to be grateful for all those
who grew me to this moment,
to feel the trunk of one’s life
against one’s back,
to feel the strength of that life,
to see the good times and the bad,
the sickness and the health,
to look up and see one’s branches,
all those people we reached out to in our life,
and then to see all the other trees,
all those other people we moved with
in the wind and in the rain,
in the cold and in the heat of life,
all those in whose shade we sat,
and then to remember with tears of joy and sorrow,
those who have died, fallen like leaves,
but we, knowing with faith,
have risen to new life with Christ,
the resurrection
and the life. Amen.

© Andy Costello,

Reflections, 2008

SITTING ALL ALONE

Dried, dead flowers
on a mahogany end table,
she couldn’t throw them out - yet.
Silent, quiet rugs everywhere,
she, sitting there all alone
in what was once their living room.
She was gazing without really
seeing the gray drizzle outside
on the other side of
their large picture window.
She has been spending
much of her time sitting there
with herself on their couch,
sitting there in their big house,
half empty since he died too soon,
twenty four days ago today,
gray loneliness inside,
along with the shrill scream
she let out that afternoon
as she heard him fall
in their bathroom - a sudden
heart attack - dead before
he hit the floor as she
was sitting there all alone
waiting on their couch,
waiting for his return.

© Andy Costello,

Reflections, 2008

ONE DAY AT A TIME

She, blurting out
unconnected comments
from a brain rearranged
from too much booze,
too many years of sitting
on too many bar stools,
in too many different beds,
laughing, crying,
then too many mornings
not knowing that her face
had become pumpkin skin color,
then,
then, through the amazing grace of God,
lost becoming found,
waking up face down,
waking up with herself –

experiencing her own personal Easter -
the resurrection of a new person,

now trying one day at a time
with coffee and cigarettes,

and a few good friends ,

and not enough AA meetings,
trying to find some furniture,

working better at her old job,
slowly moving into and enjoying

being in her own

getting better mind and skin.

She's doing it, by God. She's doing it.

© Andy Costello,

Reflections, 2008

HOT  AND  COLD  CLING

Sometimes I don’t sort my socks
and the rest of my laundry 
till a few hours after
I take them out of the dryer.
Surprise! The heat is still in them.
Sometimes the cold stays in a pair of gloves
for a long time after I had to find them
in the trunk of my car on a cold morning.
Heat, cold, cling to stone or a pair of pliers.
Does my warmth stay with those I like?
Does my coldness cling to those I avoid –
to those I try to freeze and squeeze out of my life?

© Andy Costello

Reflections, 2008

PLAN A or PLAN B?

The lonely boy hiding, always retreating into the shadows, letting others raise their hands in class, or star in games, suspicious of everything about himself, except his plan of meeting the perfect girl who will take his ugliness away, who will finally make him feel important. But he silently wonders night after night: what will happen if she has the same plan for him? Will it work? Can they change their plans? Will they?

© Andy Costello

Reflections, 2008

FOREIGN OFFICE

“Is this the office?”
“Yes. Maybe I help you?”
“What?”
“Maybe I help you?”
“Oh... Well, can I talk to somebody?”
“I somebody.”
“Well, can I talk to somebody else?”

© Andy Costello,

Reflections, 2008

THE PATH

It was a path she never took before.
It was a path she never knew was there before.
Yet it was there – hidden, but there.
It had been there — always there,
all through the years.
She must have gone by it a thousand times.
That day she finally stopped and saw it.
There it was: an opening in the hedges.
She stepped off the sidewalk,
walked to and then stopped at the opening.
She pulled back the tiny green leaves
so she could see inside.
There it was: a path, a narrow path to somewhere.
She entered.
She saw several people,
all walking that same path.
It was a path deep within herself,
tiny, narrow, winding, rocky.
That first year she came to nothing.
Yet, a voice within her kept saying,
“Keep walking.
Keep searching.
Keep coming back.”
One day she saw it:
a cross planted there,
but it was empty, silent.
It screamed no empty cry or empty curse.
The next day she came back.The cross was still there, still empty.
She prayed.
She stayed.
She waited.
The next day she came back
and this time she saw a path that lead to a tomb.
It was empty.
Suddenly, she knew:
"Christ had died. Christ had risen. Christ has come again."
She knew she had to take the path back home
back to family, friends, neighbors, world.
She did. She went through the opening in the hedges.
And from then on, she saw Jesus
some days on crosses, planted deep in every person,
some days, Risen – rising in so many people –
people long past empty cries and bitter curses,
people filled with forgiveness and inner room Peace.*

* Cf. John Chapter 20

© Andy Costello,

Reflections, 2008