Open Invitation

You rose from waters not yet formed
in the wind you had in mind.
Greeting all you created with cries
of deliverance and songs of gladness.
Giving love like a dog-- loyal to the end.

Evil you never thought of,
nor did it enter your mind.
But like a child planting
a garden you walked the fields
throwing seeds of life without reserve.

Your dance turns the earth upside down and
breaks it in two; a stumbling block
to all men: frustrating plans and
dinner reservations.
For we all must decide
to join the dance or leave angry.

Salsa Tourette's

My Salsa teacher tells me
I need to facilitate two brains at the
same time in order to be a good follower:

My logical brain that has memorized
the technical steps and practiced them
in discipline;

And a following brain whose sole
mission is to sense the slightest suggestion:
a lift of the hand, a shift of the weight to
signal a new direction and move there instead.

I think this is rather confusing. Won’t
the two brains always be at war
—the disciplined brain and the listening brain--
resulting in something akin to Salsa Tourette syndrome?

My dance partner laughs, “at least Tourette’s
would stop you from trying to lead.”

I ask for Death

Here is another poem about dying. haha. The next poem will be FUNNY....I promise...I need a little balance :) But first, here is one about death....death in Christ that is:

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I ask For Death

I ask for death-- you deliver.
It’s not like I thought it would be: friends
weeping, a thousand roses, poetry read.
It’s much harder: eating bricks of pride,
throwing up selfishness,
swallowing the fear of the God of Jacob
who promises to touch and revive
each of my bones.

When I’m dying I say stupid things:
"I don’t really like you, I don’t really believe
you, I don’t, really; really—
I don’t." Don’t listen to the strained
lies of a frightened woman facing
the unknown. My heart has never
strayed from your side—my hands
from your arm.