Easter Vigil, Sirius

I stand outside under the blackened skiesnapo2014button1
with winks of light looking down on me.

I wonder if these are the same stars she
saw as she walked alone through the streets
early that morn on her way to the hills?

The orange glow of Arcturus,
red hot Mars, the icy blue chill of
Sirius, and the white glare of Jupiter,
eyes looking back from the heavens.

Did they see her walking the road
to a place where they laid Him
behind the stone, inside
even blacker than the night?

Did they see her tears fall across her
cheeks as she gazed up to the heavens
cursing Yahweh for her loss?

Could they look into her emptiness,
her fear of being left alone having
lost one so dear?

I stand under these same stars and
wonder if they see me too?




Author’s Notes:

Holy Saturday and the Easter Vigil.

John 20:1 (NIV)

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance.

Maundy Thursday

I walk with her this humble evenapo2014button1
feet bare touching earth.

I walk with her and her pain
the flow of life from birth.

Her flow of blood from sin unknown
a banishment acceded.

My malady, one of the soul, a
spirit departing untreated.

We walk with Him this quiet night
I wonder if we’re worthy.

I search for cures to ease my torment
not seeking anyone’s mercy.

My feet are washed by gentle hands,
she asks to be made whole.

My feet are dried with loving care,
she reaches for His stole.

I count the stars. She looks to Him,
the mystery reveled.

You have made me worthy, and
by Your Word I am healed.




Author’s Note:

This Lent, through an unexpected series of events, I wrote a monologue about the Woman With The Flow of Blood from the Gospel of Mark.

I didn’t expect this journey.

She has been walking beside these weeks and guiding me. Her story is only ten sentences long, but turns on two words: cure and heal.

I didn’t expect to be so moved to a new understanding of who I am and who He is.


I restnapo2014button1
inside your palms
petals holding court
row after row
raising their armsDSCN0089
in praise

unnoticed I dream
wrapped within tender
fingers of prayer
in spring’s

Winter has passed
its harsh grip
thawed in gratitude
of your radiant


The love that remains as moon wanesnapo2014button1

bleeds through my fingers

emptying my weary heart.




Author’s Note:

I came across this word, saudade, on Julian Lennon’s Facebook page this evening.



Perfect for the end of a long Monday when tired and a bit melancholy and needing a write for NaPoWriMo. It is also a style of Brazilian music. Beautiful.





Day of Palms

Original sin etched on soulsnapo2014button1
this frigid Day of Palms.
Frozen teardrops fused
to bare limbed trees,
burgeoning buds of promise.

On this day and long ago,
he rode into a different town.
The beginning of an end
to make us whole
without our sin for blame.

Why so brutal and a savage death?
His simple words to remember,
there is no privilege to be earned
just passionate love surrendered.




Author’s Note:

Today is Palm Sunday.

Spring made a short stay of it. A little rain this morning turned into a snowy, wind howling storm.

If you are interested in learning more about this poem, please visit my blog Be Still… and click on Palm Sunday, Frozen.

The Big Poetry Giveaway, 2014, Part 2

Good day, all!

I’ve decided to add another book to my giveaway. Yay!

L.L. Barkat is launching her new book of poetry, Love, Etc., this coming Monday, April 14, 2014. Stop by Tweekspeak Poetry and see all the happenings. What fun! They are on Facebook, too.


It is such a lovely work, I decided it needs to be added to my giveaway list. Check out my review by Lex at Amazon and buy a copy for yourself or to give away.

Want to win a free copy?  Go to my original post, The Big Poetry Giveaway, 2014 , just leave a comment with your e-mail or blog address so if you win, I know how to contact you. Drawing will take place the first week of May.

Need more information? Visit The Big Poetry Giveaway, 2014 at their page. It’s a fun thing to do this National Poetry Month.

And while you’re here I cordially invite you to scroll around my page. I am participating in NaPoWriMo in celebration of poetry this month.




It is a dove.

She thought it was an owl.

I heard it. It’s an owl.

We have doves in
our trees. Grey blue dress
for every day.

We have owls. At least one,
but it doesn’t show often.

I picked up a rock that
had fallen from a bed
encircling the chokecherry.


A hum joined in chorus.

Citrine, a bit, and some clear.

I reached to her face
holding it to her cheek.

It’s cold.

Ancient Greek names crystal
icy, cold frost.

Glass will warm. Crystal stays chill.

Molten earth, deep inside
fires and flows, cools and
hardens. Hearts, too.


Owl visited. In
spring eventide, it came.

I heard it. It’s an owl.

Vespers to the Holy.




Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo. Day 11.

Haiku for NaPoWriMo

Lone coyote dashes across grass-napo2014button1

Waning suburban moon,

The nights are getting shorter.




Author’s Note:

Today’s Poetry Prompt from the Facebook page of NaPoWriMo: It’s haiku day! Pen up a haiku as an animal enjoying its favorite activity.

Perfect for a busy mid week. Actually, haiku is not child’s play at poetry. Below is an infographic I love using from Tweetspeak Poetry when attempting to write a haiku:





Don’t forget to stop by my post – The Big Poetry Giveaway 2104. I am participating and giving away two books of poetry – for free! Who would not want a free book of poetry? You could win either a lovely copy of
InsideOut: Poems by L.L. Barkat or The Alaphabet Not Unlike the World by Katrina Vandenberg.

 All you have to do is leave a comment and a blog address or e-mail!

I Will Die

I will die, not in a place or at a time I know.napo2014button1

Someday I will die on a threshold
not of my choosing.

I will die, when it is time.  I need
not remember to take off my shoes
or lift my skirts or comb my hair.

My bones will chatter as they clatter
in remembrance of a life well lived.

I will die embraced in gentleness and welcome
for I have tasted death
or at least have gotten close enough to
glimpse my eternity.

Lexanne is dead. And there will be no
need to remember, not me, not myself,
not the life I lived.

For we are all dust of stars, one and the same,
Molded and shaped by a hand so dear,
within us placed one cherished heart

I will die at a time I welcome in gratitude.
I will dance across the threshold
not in slippers or well heeled,
I will die in spirit freed.




Author’s Note:

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt:  ” Today, let’s rewrite a famous poem, giving it our own spin. While any famous poem will do, if you haven’t already got one in mind, why not try your own version of Cesar Vallejo’s Black Stone Lying on a White Stone? If you’re not exactly sure how such a poem could be “re-written,” check out this recent poem by Stephen Burt, which riffs on Vallejo’s.”