MARY ON 

A USUAL DAY

Poem  for Today - Sunday - September 28, 2014

FROM A WOMAN’S LIFE

What Mary knew was just

enough for the usual day;

pull water, flint fire, bake

bread, smile, pray

the dark orations, sleep, wake

wait. When pain honed a nerve,

when birth or dying clotted

an hour, she leaned to the curve

of living, resilient to fear

laughter suffering.

Partings are a little death.
Each one’s journey is a thing.

Wholly without precedent.
She looked at the sky

For compass. None. She, too,

Created a road to travel by.

© Maura Eichner
in Upholding Mystery
An Anthology
of Contemporary 
Christian Poetry,
edited by
David Impastato,
Oxford University
Press, Oxford,
New York, 1997,

Pages 362-363

PRESENT  ____  ABSENT ____

PLEASE  CHECK  ONE

Poem for Today - Saturday - September 27, 2014

FLICKERING MIND

Lord, not you,

it is I who am absent.
At first

belief was a joy I kept in secret,

stealing alone

into sacred places;

a quick glance, and away – and back,

circling.

I have long since uttered your name

but now

I elude your presence.

I stop to think about you, and my mind

at once

like a minnow darts away,

darts

into the shadows, into gleams that fret

unceasing over

the river's purling and passing.

Not for one second

will my self hold still, but wanders

anywhere,

everywhere it can turn. Not you,

it is I am absent.

You are the stream, the fish, the light,

the pulsing shadow,

you the unchanging presence, in whom all

moves and changes.

How can I focus my flickering,  perceive

at the fountain's heart

the sapphire I know is there?

© Denise Levertov, pages 122-123

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

JUST  LOOKING, 

JUST WATCHING 

Poem for Today - Friday - September 26, 2014

BACK PORCH FUNDAMENTALIST

In the afternoon

he chose the corner in the sun.

Then he set his porch rocker

facing the mimosa

where gold wires

of light tapped

the leaves, and he, himself,

by a simple act of seeing

observed a miracle.

If anything is, he said,

them pods

on this tree is the keys

of the kingdom.

© Maura Eichner  page 144

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

THE WIND BLOWS 

WHERE IT WILLS - 

EVEN INTO AN EGGPLANT 

Poem for Today - Thursday - September 25, 2014

PENTECOST

What is this Holy Spirit?

And what is it doing in the eggplant?

© David Craig

page 116 in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

ANGER:

THE FIRE COMING FROM AN ANGRY HEART

Poem for Today - Wednesday - September 24, 2014

TO THE READER

Black tulips in my heart,

flames on my lips:

from which forest did you come to me,

all you crosses of anger?

I have recognized my griefs

and embraced wandering and hunger.

Anger lives in my hands,

anger lives in my mouth

and in the blood of my arteries swims anger.

O reader,

don't expect whispers from me,

or words of ecstasy:

this is my suffering!

A foolish blow in the sand

And another in the clouds.

And is all I am –

Anger, the tinder

Of fire.

(1964)

Mahmud Darwish (1942-2008 )

pages 194-195 in

When the Words Burn,

An Anthology of Modern

Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour

TRYING TO PUT IT 

INTO WORDS.......

Poem for Today - Tuesday - September 23, 2014

THE DICTIONARY FOR LOVERS

I've always thought of writing a dictionary for lovers—

my friends, the lovers.

I've always thought of making them happy,

those marvellous people ... thought of

lighting a small lantern

for the lost thousands,

and making my heart

a wheat field for all the hungry.

I 've always considered making my eyelids

a sheet to throw over the weary

and finding out

where the birds of sadness come from

and when the trees of longing bloom.

Considered discovering what fire has burned us

for millions

of years.

I have, without a doubt, been a big fool

calling myself

the official spokesman of lovers.

Can it happen?

Is it possible to hold the sea in a bottle—

imprison jasmine?

Can the flowers of love be compressed

in one book?

I ask mercy from the God of all!

(1981)

© Nizar Qabbani (1923 -1998)

Pages 100-101 in

When the Words Burn,

An Anthology of Modern

Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour

SALEM:

TRANSLATION "PEACE"

Poem for Today - Monday -  September 22, 2014

JERUSALEM

I cried till there were no more tears,

prayed till the candles melted, knelt till kneeling bored me.

I asked about Muhammad in you, and about Jesus.

Jerusalem, City which smells of prophets,

shortest of roads between the earth and the sky

Jerusalem, lighthouse for ships,

beautiful girlchild with burnt fingers—

Your eyes are sad, City of the virgin,

luscious garden where the prophet passed.

The stones of the streets,

the minarets of the mosques, are sad.

Jerusalem, beauty wraps in black:

Who rings the bells in the Church of the Resurrection

Sunday Mornings? Who carries the toys to the children

Christmas night?

Jerusalem, city of grief,

large tear that roams under the eyelids:

Who repulses

your enemies, O pearl of religions?

Who washes the blood from the stones of the walls?

Who salvages the Bible

Who salvages Christ from his assassins?

Who salvages man?

Jerusalem, my city

Jerusalem, my love

Tomorrow, tomorrow the orange trees will bloom

and the green wheat rejoice,

and eyes and olive trees will laugh.

Migrating doves shall return

to the blessed rooftops

and children will come back to play.

Fathers and sons will meet

on your tall hills, my country,

country of peace and olive trees.

(1968)

© Nizar Qabbani (1923 -1998)

page 100 in When

the Words Burn,

An Anthology of

Modern Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour