A poem by my mother

Reflections

Had I been adequately prepared for your visit,

I would have…

Plucked the weeds from my garden

And replaced them with budding beauties,

Invited you to sit on a soft carpet of moss,

Shaded by growing greenery,

Planned a picnic of your favorite delicacies from distant lands.

 

I could not arrange an appropriate setting,

Yet you made yourself at home among weeds and unpainted boards.

You refused refreshment and placed my needs ahead of your own.

 

Like our Lord, you came to serve.

Long after sunglow, I’ll savor your sensitivity.

~Nancy J. Ressler

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photo credit: Grant MacDonald via photopin cc

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Graduation

There was a day each year

when baby ducks were led

from the nest behind the school

through crowds of teachers, students, praise

 

Waddling over smooth, linoleum floors

through the lobby where the crowd

beheld the sacred, duckling footsteps to the door

 

They would leave the nest

smooth, round tables

long days of numbers and words

for dreams of water songs and wings

made real

 

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

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photo credit: stevehdc via photopin cc

Surrender

I should have bowed down

And surrendered

Every day

 

I should have told you

I could see you

Lovely

Like the wings of all those geese

Who flew away

When we could not

 

Our minds are different

Every nuance

Every chord

Like tight wound wire

Exposed

 

All the songs and visions

Overwhelm

The feelings come in swarms

Through skin and bone

And brain

All those nerves

Are reaching

For a breath

Within the flame

 

Without it

Where would words be?

Would summer be so deep and hot?

Electric

 

Can we live without ourselves?

Maybe, for a day

What then?

A quiet respite

In a lonely, tired grave?

 

You have a light

Surrender

To the weight

Of all these

Prayers

 

Heavy

Till you bow down

Head to earth

And shed the blame

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

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photo credit: chiaralily via photopin cc