Can’t imagine how it took me
So
Long!
To see the flaws in my makeup,
Every hiccup and catch,
Were really just the letters of an
Engraved invitation.
Can’t imagine how it took me
So
Long!
To see the flaws in my makeup,
Every hiccup and catch,
Were really just the letters of an
Engraved invitation.
Lord, I can’t reach.
My arms wrench from burning sockets,
My head spins and the world before my eyes is
Dark.
They are falling
Falling
Falling away
Down down down
I don’t wonder where they’re falling to–
I know.
Falling in their sleep,
The shrieking wind of plummeting doesn’t even wake them
As it geysers up nostrils and insists on open eyelids.
So s t r e t c h e d
Bones could pierce through my skin and jet out to them like ammunition,
To catch to catch to catch!
Lord, I can’t reach!
Falling falling
Reach!
Lord, I can’t can’t can’t-
I am
Pockmarked
Like the lunar surface,
Like a rambling, neglected
Dirt road.
Rain still seeps between
The bits of gravel used for fill
Under a woven cover of
Cobwebs.
I breathe, and the evil I do not will
Wriggles from
Weeping-wracked wounds.
I retch wretches,
Clutch clutches,
Breed broods–
Until the gossamer goes,
And I stand instead-
Disrobed.
Worn beyond all wearing,
Torn beyond all tearing,
Greedy gear teeth
Crunch
Sever
Rip
Bore.
Extra bits discarded,
Every part that marr’d it-
Fresh-formed but
Wrung
Out and
Full
Sore.
Today I don’t care about
Tall, dark,
Or handsome.
I want
Dishes, diapers, and laundry
Done.
Five fat fingers, each
Haloed with its own profound
Dimple-
Deep and then spreading
In a glaze-thin layer
Until all the baby roundness
Has seeped and dripped off-
Licked and lapped up
Until the spoon is clean and
Not even one hint of that sticky
Sweet messy memory has
Staying
Power-
The hands have grown
Nimble fingers,
Fingers that don’t want to be held.
It is good that we are here.
Good good good,
Good and very good.
It is good that we are here, yes-
But don’t pitch any tents.
Are you an anchor or are you the sea-
Am I held, tethered-
Or do I float,
Free?
I do
Nothing
extraordinary.
All I do has been done.
Will be done.
Thine, and Thine only.
Ordinary.
Monotonous.
Laborious.
Other men may build great halls.
Other mothers may raise great saints.
All I want has been wanted.
All I know has been known.
This fire or that both sear.
Thine, and Thine only-
The Sum of all longing
and all fears.
Sweet Lord Jesus, I give you my day;
Most Sacred Heart, defend me, I pray.
Open my eyes to see only Your Glory,
Open my lips to tell only Your Story,
Strengthen my hands to do only Your Will,
Let my feet walk Your paths or let them be still.
From Your wounded side, fill me with graces
To set hearts afire in all the dark places. Amen.
This is the morning offering I wrote for my children. We say it each morning, pointing to eyes and lips, opening and closing hands, and marching feet at the appropriate verses 😊