Month: January 2016

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 😊