Saturday, March 30, 2013

The Silence of Saturday

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Do you hear the silence in the tomb—hard and lifeless—vacuous hopes of my heart buried in a borrowed grave with one who would save us?

Do you hear the silence in the streets where palms faded and brittle blow to the wadis by dry desert winds—blow along with our visions of an overcoming respite?

And the pain of that black moment has dissolved in my tears and loss, and we mourn for him, but probably more for ourselves—myself.

And in the weeping and the regularity of another’s day, a great silence fills and empties me of will and belief. Behind my eyes, inside my head, the palpable quiet pushes out hope and in my hands where once we held his bread and wine, I hold despair, pressed down, dark, and bloody.

Friday, March 29, 2013

Crucify Him

Music starts at about 22 sec. in.  I'm still learning how to do the techy stuff. :-)

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

More Hum-Alongs

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My Hum Will Go On and On

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♪♪♫♫♪ “We’ll stay forever this way;
You are safe in my heart.
And my hum will go on and on.” ♫♪♫♪♪
…………….Wait, don’t I get the girl for this shot?
In fact, where is my boat?

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Self-conscious Self-portrait

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Before entropy does more rearranging,
before neurons forget which direction they are supposed to fire,
before the before is more lucid than the now,
I will do a self-portrait–the self-conscious kind.

Avian Idol

♪♪♫♪♫ Aint no sunshine when she’s gone;
it’s not warm when she’s away.
Aint no sunshine when she’s gone and she’s always gone too long
anytime she goes away . . . and I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I knowwwwwww,
yeah baby!” ♪♫♫♪
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Oh, you looked so shy when you came out, and I just thought, “What is this shy, retiring, long-beaked guy gonna do anyway–him in his too tight, too short suit and bad haircut. I am sooooo surprised, and this is soooooo not faked to wrench the emotions of the audience. (Hey, Clyde, make sure our major sponsors get a load of this on Youtube!) Oh, it is a yes for me. A YES! You are going all the wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Glorious Intruder

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I have you safe here in my tiny box—my Sunday box,
my settled and safe Sunday box with fixed parameters and expectations,
no surprises.
But seams fill and cracks appear.
I am feeling uncomfortable here with my tidy little box of devotion.
I am feeling threatened here with my commitment that will not conform.
I thought I had you contained in my dogma and doctrine.
I thought creeds kept you tame and manageable.
But there are cracks round the edges, and I am feeling exposed.
Utility over abandon has come with a cost;
safety over fidelity has made this thin soul dissatisfied, and I am feeling stretched here
as my faith fictions and controllable boxes give way to your intrusion.


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Some days, I am truth-tired.
Knowing takes work; doing right is hard,
when what I need—
is deep arm-hold rest,
the no debate and defend rest.
Some days, the thinking I want to do is the wonder kind,
the comfort kind,
the kind where knowing and feeling are one smooth integrated line
and sighs are contentment
not exasperation, desperation.
Some days, I am truth-tired and loss-tired,
but I know what I need.
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About apronheadlilly

wife and mother, musician, composer / poet, teacher, and observer of the world, flawed Christ-follower

This entry was posted in Christian, Faith, Photography, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Edit

4 Responses to Truth-tired

  1. Some of that would be good.

I would love to hear from you!

Searching on the Wild Side

n the Wild Side

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We have none yet on this side of the mountain, but hubby and I found green hills and wildflower color on the other side. Probably because that side hogs the rain and snow. :-)
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The happy climbers = hubby and collie
The happy climbers = hubby and collie

Finches with Coffee--No Cream

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Yesterday I posted a picture of finches–one yellow. The post was done with a touch of headache, sans cafe! So it was not as clear as some of the others I had. So I thought I’d show you my little yellow friend with coffee. I had the coffee. He had the seed.
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Before the Dark Call

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Dare I raise my young, taut head
when winter still slinks round, pounce-ready—sneaky like that?
There is sun and wind and water and will,
and my face yearns to breathe it all in.
Dare I expose my defenseless self
when life is short-lived, petals weary—fragile like that?
There is wood and sap and strength and stretch,
and I can’t help but drink it in before the dark call—
the long fall that cuts my splendor short.
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Sunday, March 3, 2013

Fingering Eternity


Fingering the heavens,
fingering the eternal,
reaching for the knowing part of this God-friendship,
needing not just instruction, but communion,
needing not just a job description, but a guiding
with your eye upon me.
And never alone: I would be
friend of, collaborator with,
fingering eternity now.

Ah, Humans!

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Ah, humans . . . the other white meat!
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Photographs by Lilly
Caption by hubby
Menacing look by Night Heron (even in the day!)
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I'm doing the wave . . . oops!

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Mountain chickadee

Small but Mighty

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This Rufous Hummingbird has lungs! For the longest time, I couldn’t see what bird was making such a loud chirp. It was not one of my regular visitors; at least, I didn’t think so. The loud one-at-a-time cheep was loud and obviously meant to warn.

One day last week, when hubby was hanging clothes (and yes he does laundry!), he was standing 2 feet from the feeeder when this little guy cut loose! So the mystery is solved. Talent scouts should be arriving soon.
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