Questioning on Good Friday

Asking Joseph of Arimathea

Who of us
has not gone
away
stone-blind, sealed
to the thought
of another day
where wounds
would be closed as tight
as this tomb,
who of us
has remembered
to wait...
to stay.

---
Thanks Gordon, for inspiring me to this poem.

RELATED:
Mary Asked Martha

On Writing an Easter Poem

On Writing an Easter Poem

I watch women,
men, girls
come to the table
with eggs— fuschia, lemon,
baby blue. They write of
redemption in thin shells,
and all I can do is open
my mouth like a teenaged
boy who's looking for
his voice and finds...
it cracks.


Eggs in Gallery photo by L.L. Barkat.

The Poet as Minor Pastor

I wanted to be a pastor. Seventeen years old, word-loving, soul-loving. It seemed the thing. So I declared a Bible major.

That was before I considered what it would take, where the openings would be. Before I sat in classes as a woman among men. It occurred to me one day... this might be an uphill journey I wasn't willing to take.

So I declared an English major.

It was a good decision. I don't say this to make a statement about women in the ministry. I say this because I truly believe I've found my sweet spot, as a prose-poet... and even... dare I claim it... as a poet-poet.

In The Pastor As Minor Poet, M. Craig Barnes suggests the image of pastor as poet...

"Someone has to teach the people how to dream."

"It takes a poet to find that presence beneath the layers of strategy for coping with the feeling of its absence."

"The minor poet knows these people. He or she knows the unique struggles, confusions, and yearnings they carry around in their hearts because they are perceived not as people in general but as the collection of individuals who have made their way into the heart of the pastor."

At one point he quotes Barbara Brown Taylor, who says, "The parts of the Christian story that had drawn me into the Church were not the believing parts but the beholding parts." And I found myself scribbling in the margin... my job, then, is first to see, then to describe and say, 'Behold.'

It was in that moment that I thought... I am reading a book about being a pastor-poet. Why does this stir so deeply? Is it not because I am the inverse? I am the poet as minor pastor. And it is exactly who I want to be.

"Porch"

Come rest
a while in the red
rocker, tell your
cares to me. Day
is still young, wisteria
hangs purple from the
wainscot porch roof,
dew poised on its turning
leaf. Drink a shivering
glass of sweet tea, suck
lemon on your way
to settled sugar endings.
Rock your cares into
my floorboards. Come,
rest a while with me.

Poetry prompt: let's go out to the porch (or the deck, or the yard if you don't have a porch... or, maybe you write about a porch from the past or the one you dream of having). Please post your offering by Thursday, August 20, for possible feature and definite links at High Calling Blogs. Leave your link here in the comment box so I don't miss you (I'm a little busy these days and I do miss things.)

Pastor as Minor Poet photo, by L.L. Barkat. Thanks Scot, for bringing me to this beautiful book.

STONE CROSSINGS:
Thanks to Wendy for this lovely review... "I don't think I could have chosen a more appropriate book to begin with during my reading time at camp. Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places, by L.L. Barkat, was a breath of fresh air to my soul..." continue reading

POETRY FRIDAY:
Monica’s Shoe Rack
Joelle’s Asphalt Halls
A Simple Country Girl’s Hall
Mom2Six’s Connecting
Lance’s Altered Jesus
Liz’s The Hallway
Yvette’s Dark and Dank
Heather’s Hallways
Amber’s A Hall Gathering
nAncY’s The Hall
Jim’s Sanctuary of Nothing
Ann’s Read the Writing on the Wall
Deb’s Great Hall Presents
Emily's Hall Hell Redemption
Laura's Down the Hall
Wendy's At the Corner of Now and Then

For Easter: In Lieu of the New York Times

Where do poems come from?

Sometimes I have a clear vision for a poem and it's simply a matter of pursuing it. Other times I wake up with half a poem in my head and all I need to do is take time to finish it. Then there are those moments of greater discipline when I begin in trust, with an arbitrary image, and hope that a poem will agree to be forged. That's how this poem was created, using the prompt If words were... and an image I settled on without any particular vision for where it might take things: clovers.

Though the poem could be given to any number of people in my life, I eventually saw its potential as the words of God to me (and to you) this Easter... an invitation, yet again, to "taste and see that [he] is good."

'In Lieu of the
New York Times'

If words were
clovers
I’d pluck mine
and lay them
at your doorstep,
retreat to shade
of oak,
watch you become
a child again,
poke past purple
spikes, nip tender
white tips with
teeth, freely sip
raw sugar, lick
your lip.

Clover photo, by L.L. Barkat.

MORE GOOD FRIDAY/EASTER POETRY:
Goodwordediting's Surprised by a Styrofoam Jesus
Marcus Goodyear's unconventional Good Friday poem God Breathed, at Catapult
Jim's Yet Still
Ann's Necessary
High Calling Blogs' RAP: Eating Our Words on Good Friday
Scott's An Easter Poem

MORE ON EASTER:
Byron Borger's Hard Lessons, review at Catapult
High Calling Blogs Bottleneck in the Communion Line

Scarlet

Thinking about color today, and the question people often ask Dayton Castleman about his red-pipes-in-prison art installment... why red?

Scarlet is,
man, scarlet is
fever,
fever and sins
against
snow. Scarlet
is, man,
scarlet is
single stray drop
to ruin a
queen's perfectly
good embroidery,
don't you know,
scarlet is,
man, scarlet is
frankly
he doesn't give
a damn.
Man, put scarlet
in my hands
so I can throw
it out windows
of Jericho, put
scarlet-pierced
palms in
hidden pockets,
let it flow past
thighs and knee
become a trail
behind me. Man,
give me a bucket
of scarlet paint,
pipes and the
vision to see
escape routes,
openings, ways
to the sky, and
all the places
scarlet can,
must
be.

Random Acts of Poetry:
High Calling Blogs' RAP: Changing the World
Nancy's Awaken
Jim's August Evening
Andy's Would You Have Known Him
Erica's Red
The Unknown Contributor's Nursing

WRITING PROJECT:
Maybe some of you would like to try your hand at a color poem? Please let me know if you post one by Thursday, MARCH 5, to be considered for a possible feature and definite links at High Calling Blogs.