Bloggers have an interesting tradition: Friday is ‘cat day’. Thousands of sites worldwide contain stories, pictures, poetry, rants, essays about cats.
We have a black cat in our household. But I’m not going to join this tradition.
Instead, I will continue a habit I started in November, the first month of my entry into Blogger Nation: I will publish a poem on the last day of the month. I write most of my poetry for Pam, my wife, love, and friend. This is one I wrote for her two years ago, during our 25th year together.
We Painted the Sky
You picked bright blues,
twirled with wispy whites.
Just hanging in a porous canopy,
letting rays skip sprightly
and dancing to the hill’s gleaming fall breeze.
I brushed a pale pastel sky,
merging to the sun’s white glare at the horizon.
Purple clouds climb over the dark mountain
fringed in pink
which rolled with the wind.
We painted the sky
with the same palette we use on our lives –
ever smiling, ever dark,
always moving west to east,
smiling as it comes, waning as we leave
over a horizon we cannot know.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Thursday, December 30, 2004
We bring a bucket to the conflaguration
The neighbor’s house burns down.
Do you wait three days before wandering over to check on the family? See how they are doing? Offer any help? Call friends and community organizations to organize assistance?
Of course not. And the President of the United States shouldn’t wait that long either.
We just witnessed the greatest natural disaster of this generation. Uncounted thousands killed. Unfathomable physical damage. Whole islands devastated. Populations totally uprooted. Massive disruption of social and civil institutions. Broken health and safety structures.
And the leader of the strongest, richest country in the world speaks publicly 72 hours after the disaster. And promises something more than the paltry $35 million we have pledged so far. As Senator Pat Leahy noted, we spend more than that in Iraq before breakfast. The European Union has collected more than that from street collections….
As a society, we must rise above such meager leadership. We are better than this.
Do you wait three days before wandering over to check on the family? See how they are doing? Offer any help? Call friends and community organizations to organize assistance?
Of course not. And the President of the United States shouldn’t wait that long either.
We just witnessed the greatest natural disaster of this generation. Uncounted thousands killed. Unfathomable physical damage. Whole islands devastated. Populations totally uprooted. Massive disruption of social and civil institutions. Broken health and safety structures.
And the leader of the strongest, richest country in the world speaks publicly 72 hours after the disaster. And promises something more than the paltry $35 million we have pledged so far. As Senator Pat Leahy noted, we spend more than that in Iraq before breakfast. The European Union has collected more than that from street collections….
As a society, we must rise above such meager leadership. We are better than this.
Friday, December 24, 2004
A Gift for Christmas
A friend sent me a gift this morning: an excerpt from the book Jacob the Baker by Noah BenShea. I had not heard of this book, nor of its author; the above title links to his web page.
The story, "In the Ashes", concerns Jacob and his friend Mr. Gold, who is dying. They discuss their views on life and its value; at one point Mr. Gold exclaims "Our days amount to nothing!" But Jacob differs, and he responds as one 'with the attitude of a man not filled with knowing but caring':
"Mr. Gold, all passes, nothing stops. Our days do amount to nothing, but that is because we are not a collection. We are a process.
"The truth about the seasons is that the seasons change. While everything appears to live and die, it is only the appearance of things which lives and dies. The dead are buried. Their memory is not."
"...Life is often heavy only because we attempt to carry it," said Jacob. "But, I do find strength in the ashes."
"In the ashes?" asked Mr. Gold.
"Yes," said Jacob, with a confirmation that seemed to have traveled a great distance.
"You see, Mr. Gold, each of us is alone. Each of us is in the great darkness of our ignorance. And, each of us is on a journey. In the process of our journey, we must bend to build a fire for light, and warmth and food.
"But when our fingers tear at the ground, hoping to find the coals of another's fire, what we often find are the ashes. And, in these ashes, which will not give us light or warmth, there may be sadness, but there is also testimony.
"Because these ashes tell us that somebody else has been in the night, somebody else has bent to build a fire, and somebody else carried on.
"And that can be enough, sometimes."
Human life is the show that never ends. We are the product of our past, our heritage; the ashes provide a foundation for the present, whether we are aware of it or not. Those ashes can represent our greatest hopes.
Tomorrow we celebrate the birth of one who brings meaning to our lives. Tonight, my wife and I will visit a couple who face incredible physical barriers. The woman suffers from a sickness that requires dialysis twice a week; her husband, who has been caring for her for years, is now going blind. Yet, they are the most optimistic and hopeful people we know. They do not dwell on their own problems, but are much more interested in caring for others -- and are thankful for every blessing that comes their way.
The light from this couple shines from a deep foundation of ashes. It represents the strongest hope for all of us.
Happy Christmas.
The story, "In the Ashes", concerns Jacob and his friend Mr. Gold, who is dying. They discuss their views on life and its value; at one point Mr. Gold exclaims "Our days amount to nothing!" But Jacob differs, and he responds as one 'with the attitude of a man not filled with knowing but caring':
"Mr. Gold, all passes, nothing stops. Our days do amount to nothing, but that is because we are not a collection. We are a process.
"The truth about the seasons is that the seasons change. While everything appears to live and die, it is only the appearance of things which lives and dies. The dead are buried. Their memory is not."
"...Life is often heavy only because we attempt to carry it," said Jacob. "But, I do find strength in the ashes."
"In the ashes?" asked Mr. Gold.
"Yes," said Jacob, with a confirmation that seemed to have traveled a great distance.
"You see, Mr. Gold, each of us is alone. Each of us is in the great darkness of our ignorance. And, each of us is on a journey. In the process of our journey, we must bend to build a fire for light, and warmth and food.
"But when our fingers tear at the ground, hoping to find the coals of another's fire, what we often find are the ashes. And, in these ashes, which will not give us light or warmth, there may be sadness, but there is also testimony.
"Because these ashes tell us that somebody else has been in the night, somebody else has bent to build a fire, and somebody else carried on.
"And that can be enough, sometimes."
Human life is the show that never ends. We are the product of our past, our heritage; the ashes provide a foundation for the present, whether we are aware of it or not. Those ashes can represent our greatest hopes.
Tomorrow we celebrate the birth of one who brings meaning to our lives. Tonight, my wife and I will visit a couple who face incredible physical barriers. The woman suffers from a sickness that requires dialysis twice a week; her husband, who has been caring for her for years, is now going blind. Yet, they are the most optimistic and hopeful people we know. They do not dwell on their own problems, but are much more interested in caring for others -- and are thankful for every blessing that comes their way.
The light from this couple shines from a deep foundation of ashes. It represents the strongest hope for all of us.
Happy Christmas.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)