Four Words: A Small Change with an Eternity of Impact
May 13, 2019Today, I went to the new initiatory session. When I arrived, the cute workers excitedly whispered to each other, “we have a patron!” I was the first of the day. It felt so good to…
Today, I went to the new initiatory session. When I arrived, the cute workers excitedly whispered to each other, “we have a patron!” I was the first of the day. It felt so good to…
My earliest memory takes place in 1960s Wilkinsburg, where we lived while Dad finished his schooling at Carnegie Tech. Dark brick house and heavy gray sky. Warm, prickly air; a carpet of clover in the grass. A thick cement porch I loved, anchored with square pillars of the same black brick. Chipped concrete steps with graveled wounds and patches.
Every Tuesday morning, sky dark,
I rise to the temple. Today, by the
time we reach the Garden, the
actors need help with their lines.
The lost daughter woke up
and returned to herself,
and determined she no
longer wanted to be lost,
and determined to
return to her Mother.
One time, in the temple,
after looking, and smelling,
and asking, and listening,
a quietness spoke back
A ring of women
Spontaneously gathered round
Willing hands outstretched
Gently pulling, untwisting, unbraiding
Hello, God, small and obscure, distant twinkly point of light.
Perhaps, you are the portal and I am the time. I long
thought the other way ‘round.
Her favorite is the whisper of slippers on plush carpet.
Her favorite is the window of stained glass, jewel-bright, reminding her
of a wildflower field and that cathedral in France.
Redeem these altars
Whereon divine parity
Was sacrificed.
I walk into the baptistry
In our modest, midwestern temple
Eager to fold fluffy towels
Into their honorable offerings.