When someone dies young

I found this heartbreaking beauty,
the poem, When someone dies young,
in Robin Becker's collection,
All-American Girl 
(University of Pittsburgh, 1996),
which I have been reading
as sacred text since 12 January.

For you all, beloveds.

When someone dies young
by Robin Becker

When someone dies young
a glass of water lives
in your grasp like a stream.
The stem of a flower
is a neck you could kiss.
When someone dies young
and you work steadily
at the kitchen table
in a house calmed by music
and animals' breath,
you falter at the future,
preferring the reliable past,
films you see over and over
to feel the inevitable
turning to parable, characters
marching with each viewing
to their doom.
When someone dies young
you want to make love furiously
and forgive yourself.
When someone dies young
the great religions welcome you,
a supplicant with your bowl.
When someone dies young
the mystery of your own
good luck finds a voice
in the bird at the feeder.
The strict moral lesson
of that life's suffering
takes your hand, like a ghost,
and vows companionship
when someone dies young.


Read another of Robin's poems, Hospice, at this blog: How a poem happens

To break your heart open, again

for Vickie

Talking to a friend today
via email
about loneliness
remembering
the five months
I spent in Flagstaff, Arizona
before my husband joined me there
as some of the loneliest days of my life.

Trying to stay true to the plan
Hanging in there
I tried to attend all the beauty I could find
that was promised
if we moved 2,552 miles from the only home we'd ever known.

And so it was that I drove
the few miles from our apartment
beneath Mt. Elden
to the flat land
beneath the San Francisco Peaks
to see the sun flowers
everyone was talking about.

And what I found
were not the tall, gangly,
heavy hanging
seed bearers that I expected.
No, instead
a valley of vast yellow delight
that broke
my heart open

in loveliness

in possibility

and on the road
where I turned off route 180
to take pictures

a row of mailboxes
longing for news
from a girl far from home.

Balm for loneliness

Day 7 of the flu
my mind tired
and prone to
negativity...

I hadn't thought yet of loneliness
until I received this poem
in my morning inbox

but yes, there are times
like this one
when
loneliness is

and poetry

is a balm.

The Leaf and the Cloud: A Poem 

by Mary Oliver, excerpt

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before,

like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.

Let grief be your sister, she will wither or not.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
like the diligent leaves.

A lifetime isn’t long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.

Live with the beetle, and the wind.

Photo: JMG, Flagstaff, Autumn, 2014

Swimming to the other side

day five of the flu
and my guitar beckons

I picked out this tune
yesterday
just to make sure I could still play
and sing
and I can
but in a much lower register (no capo!)
than it is written
or performed
in this video from
Emma's Revolution:

Swimming to the other side
words and music by Pat Humphries

enjoy.

Here's a bonus track. I just realized that Pat wrote this too, Common Thread, which I first learned on Star Island at Religious Education Week circa 1996.

Common Thread

Bless the world

Digging around in the UUA's worship web collection, I found this chant:

🎼"With our minds and our hearts and our hands, 

may we choose to bless the world."

Elizabeth Norton

Follow this link to listen to the chant ➢ Bless the world

Reminds me of a message I received from my first yoga teacher, Diane Lagadec, owner/operator of the Maha Yoga Center in Bridgewater, MA, on Saturday morning:

“We must not let tragedies  ...  

diminish the light of compassion that burns within our hearts” 

Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche

Follow this link to connect with the center ➣ Maha Yoga Center

How will we continue to bless the world and fuel the light of compassion?

For me, I imagine the answer to the question will be lived into - with singing, witnessing, voting, reaching out to others, writing...

How about for you?

We want our children back

Image from Linda Tisdale

This morning

FB offered this mournful song

From Jason Shelton:
(click name to listen)

We want our children back

We want our children back

There are too many

Gone too soon.

Shelton wrote it for the

Fifth anniversary

Of the death of 20 tiny children

Gunned down by a broken young man

Who stormed into their elementary school

To kill anyone he met

He had already killed his mother

He killed himself in the end.

We want our children back

Many gone too soon.

As I hear Jason sing the song

From his piano

Where he ministers beyond the walls

Of just one community

To communities at large

I think of the layers

Of the words’ meaning

We want our children back

Wail mothers and fathers the world over

And for so long

We want our children back

Cry grandmothers and grandfathers

From the slave plantations in the American south

We want our children back

Howl sisters and brothers, cousins

From Chicago, Boston, New York, Los Angeles

We want our children back

Moan spiritual leaders in mosques, temples, and churches

From street corners and in the halls of government

We want our children back

We want our friends back

Scream survivors of yet another massacre

Has it always been this way?

Whether the weapon was a gun, a slap, a punch, a stick, a word?

From tyrant, king, demon-filled soul; father?

In the Hebrew Scriptures, Jeremiah prophesies:

"A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more."

And so I wonder,

When and how will we

Mourning and weeping

When and how will we

Refuse to be comforted

Refuse to be quieted

And instead sing and work and demand:

We want our children back

Too many gone too soon

And make it stop!

Just for fun

Love this photo retrospective in the Huffington Post this morning of women's olympic skating costumes over the years...

Womens figure skating costumes evolution

1924

Here are three highlights...notice that the two from 2014 include a "flesh" colored insert to prevent "malfunctions."

2014

2014

2018

And here is one more that I just LOVE. 

How do they do that? 

She looks like a swan. 

love. love. love.

Hijab 101

Muslim Girls Making Change is dedicated to social justice through poetry. Check them out.

Youth slam poetry group members Kiran Waqar, Hawa Adam, 

Lena Ginawi, and Balkisa Abdikadir.

Below is a powerful poem from Kiran Waqar. Find more of their work on their website and at the Young Writer's Project.

Hijab 101

She be rockin it, she be rockin it(2x), she be rockin’ that hijab

K: But you think she’s oppressed

H: It’s a little short of the feminist movement

K: You think she’s mistreated

Aren't you hot in that?

Do you shower with that on?

What’s underneath that thing?

K: Why are you wearing that? You were prettier before

H: Can I touch your hair?

*whisper* Did your dad make you wear it?

Welcome to Hijab 101

Lesson #1: Basic pronunciation

It’s hi-jab not heeejob

H: Learn to work your tongue around it

K: Twist and bend until you get can get the perfect sounds

H: This will be your first test

Lesson #2: Common misconceptions

H: People don’t seem to realize...

It’s my choice!

No! My parents aren't forcing me to wear it

K: I chose to put it on

H: This hijab has always been a part of me

K: Let me be clear

H: I do it for the Creator, not His creation

K: This hijab is my form of liberation!

So you haters, go get yourself an education!

Lesson #3: Defining the hijab

K: Hijab. Noun. Meaning barrier and partition in Arabic.

H: But for me it means modesty, you see, it’s a part of our personality.

K: Hijab means brain over body

H: Hijab means security

K: Hijab means identity

Lesson #4: Hijab and feminism

K: Feminism today means loving your body

B: Accepting your body

H: Showing your body without any reservation

And I do that, by covering my body

K: By controlling who sees my body, I reclaim it

It's my right!

K: So next time, you say women shouldn’t be shamed for their clothing

Don’t forget this hijabi

K: I’ll rock my short, or long hijab

H My black abaya

K: My niqab and my burkini

H: But this isn’t a class for you

K: It’s not meant to inform you on who I am

H: Whoever I am and whoever you are

Respect

Because this

Is my hijab

*hijab flip*