Enjoy the creativity of these poems written by the CFDM community!
The thoughts began with asking God, "What do you want me to say to you? What do you want me to say to you?"
Here's what I desire, Abba- that I could/would move through each day as though your kingdom, your Presence, is an ocean, and I am a fish, surrounded by it- traveling carelessly through it.
The fish are not aware of the water, and yet they would not survive without it. They move through it without ever thinking about it- without comprehending it.
I want to be the fish that rolls, and spins, and twirls in the water with delight, because I am beginning to understand all that it is to me.
I want to be immersed in your love!
Question and Answer
Lord, what will be our 'new beginning’?
And yet, has it already begun?
For those who have not been so changed by loss,
For those who by fear had not yet been tossed,
It is this moment now, and not the one yet to be
That I can know You are with me.
Oh, awake in me that which you wait to both hear and to speak.
Right here, right now, Your faithfulness is a provision that we share.
No public plague or public fear hinders your loving care,
Nor stops Jesus’ teaching on how to live here.
Hardly quiet, inside anyway, YET, yet You have invited me to a different rhythm this day.
I listen, to water in a cairn fountain, the graced trickle over marble green.
I look, to hummingbirds flitting on the blossom of an ancient lemon tree, still producing its gifts of yellow skinned juice, sour and sweetness both she upholds.
I feel, fatigued and energized, my divergent self, caught in the pressure of the week and spurred by the pen of poet and psalmist.
I hear, the gentle voice of care and wisdom which is You, through another voice I know well, my sister’s gentle articulations and insights.
I smell, a faint aroma lingering from the night blooming jasmine, not finished with her work into the daylight, surprised essence.
I taste, my cool carafe of iced tea and relish the hint of mint, fresh herb, tiny leaf flavoring my quenched thirst.
Disorder in the midst of loveliness, Your Holy “and Yet”, beckons a new ordering, promises a new hope.
Small wonders abound. Gift, grace, too often missed. Invite me to more, spur me on Oh Lord, to live as an “And Yet” one, even when my heart is rendered heavy and torn.
And yet...thy kingdom come, and on earth.
Yes, to ‘And Yet’.
Such a lovely invitation-
Imagine myself sitting on a slope of a hill near a river
as I turn to God in prayer.
A gentle voice encouraging me to take thoughts which distract
and place them on small boats going down the river.
What a peaceful prospect, such a calm voice.
But inside me the voices are not calm!
“To do” lists- You go on a boat
“Shouldn’t have said that”- You go on a boat
That judging thought- to a boat
That stressful demand- to a boat
That random idea- down the river with you.
Oh no...my boats are crashing into each other.
Wait..are some of them racing?
Now, what was my centering word?
Oh shoot, I sent it down the river on that pretty blue boat.
Next time, no boats. Thoughts go straight in the water.
At the Threshold
I stand in a threshold
the earth behind
and glory beckoning
And yet I resist
for the love of a shoe,
or a flower,
or any sparkly thing
So I stretch, trying
to pull the world in
But it doesn’t fit
the me I am becoming.
It seems too big
but in truth, it’s
Oh how I resist
into what I am, really
But in this threshold
I am simply
silly putty stretched thin.
My face distorts
as I am pulled
by a heavenly tension
that will not let go.
The brave thing
is to relax my grip
and surrender in humility
I don’t know best.
I don’t know
much at all.
Surrendering, I would receive
all that’s good,
all that matters,
And be complete.
© 2018 Gini L. Downing
And so it ends,
all hopes and joys on a cross impaled
and a body battered and bruised,
In agony, life spent and yet
in its anguish an unexplainable beauty.
Blood mingled with tears
and dripping rivulets form and fall.
A last gaze, eyes torn and bloodshot
wander pain-hazed, and for a moment focus
I stand transfixed, unable to turn
or look away.
I am frozen in time, me seeing him seeing me
and I am a flood of tears and sorrows.
A raindrop falls, then another.
Still I stand, unmoving
yet moved to my soul’s center.
His eyes have closed.
The pain has stopped
as life slips away in a final sigh.
A whisper, really,
belying the violent end, in peace.
Another drop falls, and this one
into my open palm,
not rain, but blood.
My wound from his
And his wound for me.
I am marked for eternity.
© 2018 Gini L. Downing
The walls of my home have been white washed,
--the teal of the entry way
--the azure of the powder room
--the buttercup of the master bath
The family room, wood paneled cabin-feel, now a white, airy cottage-feel.
“A white canvas for a new owner,” explained our agent/son.
“All touches of me erased with brush strokes of white.”
Twenty-five years ago, this home enfolded us.
Here we celebrated:
A daughter’s wedding, a granddaughter’s birth, a mother’s 90th birthday.
Here we fellowshipped:
Friend’s enjoying meals, sated by conversation, circled in prayer.
Here we welcomed:
A son struggling with illness, a daughter and family in transition,
sojourners in need of temporary dwelling.
Here I have sat:
At breakfast table, eyes on the mountain-rimmed horizon,
God’s Word, open before me, inviting,
Morning by morning.
Here I have listened:
In backyard, ears filled with bird-song,
the Spirit’s whisper, gentle like the rustle of leaves, ever-present\year after year.
Here I have rejoiced:
On sofa, heart content with chatter and laughter of family,
the Son’s beauty, evidenced all around me, promising hope
in days to come.
Good-bye dear home;
May those who reside within your ivory walls
receive this blessing of embrace.
Denise Ahern April 2021
Push troubling thoughts
Under long lists.
Let “what ifs”
Of night dreams
“What to dos”
of day tasks.
With ankle chained
Of not enough.
Upon my back.
Between my shoulders
Rest your head.”
Into the cadence
Of His steps;
On His strength.
Denise Ahern Apr. ‘21