Posted in Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #22

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Elemental Series: Fire

This rainbow of color, this flame
of blue and orange and red,
its black fingers curling
into the night sky, beckoning.

Step too close and the furnace
opens, the hairs above your wrist
lifting in surety of their own demise,
every breath the charcoal scent
of dying wood and the slow burn
that heats the belly.

Yet, rising Phoenix-like out of ashes
upon ashes from lightning hits,
ciggies tossed, the purposeful strike
of an arsonist’s match, this flame

coaxes new breath from what lies
burnt and broken, feeds the grasses
that will reach through blackness
towards the light, fire and earth
seeking, desperately seeking,
the balance the planet, which moves
to its own rhythm, demands.

Ramona Levacy
April 22, 2013

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity

Let’s Not Lie To Each Other

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Today is one of those days. It comes at the end of a week full of my usual challenges, which have been made to seem even more pathetic in my eyes when I compare them to the actual, horrific tragedies that others have faced this week instead. My existence could be much worse, but knowing that doesn’t make it better. Praying for those who are suffering instead of thinking about myself should improve my disposition, but my prayers seem like so little, and my own lack of control just adds fuel to my depression/anxiety cycle.

So, today I am supremely human. I am battered down by my own failings. This week, I gave the “cut direct” to a work associate who had irritated me at a past meeting, wrote off my employees in my own mind when they (in my opinion) failed once again at what seemed to me the simplest of tasks, watched gossipy television and engaged in my share of saying a few things about others that I would not say to the person herself, and put reading a romance novel before going to sleep in front of taking more awake time for a longer night-time prayer.

It is much easier to write about being a good Christian than it is to actually be one. It is much more appealing to feel oneself compelled by the Spirit to expound on the requirements of the narrow-path walk than to reflect on just how wide your path really is on a regular basis.

Do not misunderstand me. If you have found anything of value in anything I have written, anything that has brought you closer to the truth of God and His love, then realize that I give total credit for that revelation to Him. I know that nothing good comes from me except through God.

But on my human days, when I am supremely reminded of my need for the forgiveness of Christ, even knowing I am forgiven does not keep me from feeling like something that has crawled out from under a rock.

This feeling does not come from God. It is the exact opposite of how He wants us to feel. What He would prefer would be a reaction in which I lean that much harder on Him. Only when I completely surrender myself to the Spirit will I find that walking the narrow path is more practical than I have so far experienced.

At least I am not alone in this struggle to “be good.” In his letter to the Romans, Paul discusses the battle between the good in him, which comes from the Spirit, and the evil in him, which comes from his sinful nature. “I do not understand what I do,” he writes. “For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do” (7:15). In other words, Paul says he doesn’t understand how he keeps doing the things he feels ashamed about doing instead of the things that he knows he should be doing that would make him feel at peace with God.

But, there is hope for all of us. Paul concludes, “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin” (Romans 7:25). We will always be fighting our sinful nature, the nature that we die to each morning we arise anew in Christ, but by leaning on God, we have a chance to excel at God’s law of love instead of the devil’s sinful nature.

Christ tells us in Matthew, “for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (5:19). This truth applies to the mind as well. Where our mind is, what it dwells on throughout the day, that is where our actions will go. If we are dwelling in a place close to God, then our actions should reflect the love of Christ. If we are dwelling on television, or gossip, or work worries, or judging, then our actions will reflect the sinful nature that Paul laments in Romans.

We can’t go through life not thinking about the basic things that we are doing, the tasks we need to finish at work, the goals we have for ourselves or our children. But if we discipline ourselves to look through God’s eyes instead of just our own, then hopefully we will reflect a more Christian walk.

How will I exactly walk my talk this week? What do I need to change to avoid having another Sunday where I’m feeling the failure blues? I am going to begin by trying to watch my inner voice more closely this week. If I start thinking negative thoughts, I am going to stop myself and think about God instead, or say a prayer for the people in Boston or West, or open my Bible to one of a thousand verses I have marked that I should have memorized. If I want to avoid somebody, I am going to make myself smile at them, give them a hug (if that is appropriate) and offer a compliment that I will really mean. I will remember that Jesus had to look at the likes of me and love me. Being passingly nice to someone who otherwise annoys me is honestly the very least I can do.

If you have made it this far in this post, then maybe God is talking to you like He talked to me this week. I will close with a couple of verses from my Bible reading this week that really struck me with the poetic way that they expressed the power of God and what He desires most. (It is, after all, National Poetry Writing Month!)

From the book of Jeremiah:

But God made the earth by his power; he founded the world by his wisdom and stretched out the heavens by his understanding. When he thunders, the waters in the heavens roar; he makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth. He sends lightning with the rain and brings out the wind from his storehouses. (10: 12-13)

and

This is what the LORD says: “Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight. (9:23-24)

May we delight the Holy One this week by inviting Him into our minds on a moment-by-moment basis, for “neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:39).

Posted in Living, Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #21

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Elemental Series: Air

Lean into it when the day is still
and you will stumble into nothing,
yet you know it is there,

feeling its icy fingers or baked rays,
enjoying the tickle of its whisper
when gentle breezes lift all
that is ordinary from your burdened neck.

On atmospheric days, when what we
have given shows itself plainly, the soot
of smog a pallid reminder that all
actions come with consequences, the cast
of convenient living in contrast
to the gray, dying sky.

After a rain, washed clean and forgiving,
it keeps filling us, one breath at a time,
an exchange of molecules as old as Adam,
the one thing we cannot see that we
continue to believe.

Ramona Levacy
April 21, 2013

Posted in Christian Living, Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #20

On Knowing God

Just a piece of weathered wood,
once part of a great tree, a tall oak
spreading toward the blue sky.

How did it come to be swept
onto this sandy beach, beaten by waves,
barnacled, the smell of the distance
clinging to its nooks and crannies?

Walking in the dunes, searching
for shells and the evidence of God,
we know the loneliness of logs
taking cover under moss,
all truth of their beings hidden
under layers of salty water
and the memory of rain.

Only on our knees, the ocean’s mist
fanning our faces, do we peel
away our own layers, open the core
of our being to the One whose truth
is everywhere, even in the cast-off bits
of a mighty oak now twirling in front of us
on a distant shore.

Ramona Levacy
April 20, 2013

Posted in Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #19

The Wallflower

Hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched
to draw all that he is to himself, he leaves
no faults exposed, no sign that he has come
for any reason of his own to this gym,
this concrete-lined box decked out
in tinsel and lights that glow,
as if it too must live in mystery.

She hovers near the punch bowl,
her eyes darting between couples
twirling on the court-turned-dance floor,
her flat shoes keeping the music’s pulses
under a skirt the length they wore last year.

If he were a poet, he might write lines
about her violet eyes, the way her dark lashes
flutter behind her thick lenses,
a promise of the beauty she will grow into.

But she, not one to wither, strides
through the crowd, her limp locks bouncing,
her back straight, her head held high.
When she taps the football captain’s shoulder,
her smile transforms a dandelion to a sunflower,
their bold dance the stuff of jealous whispers as he
keeps his solemn place against the wall.

Ramona Levacy
April 19, 2013

Posted in Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #18

When Things Could Be Better

Perched on the fence post, he preens
each morning, announcing the sun
with an old voice he owns
like the hens pecking in the hard dirt,
his kingdom the span of our two acres,
this junk yard of Grandpa’s used car parts
and the patch of wilted vegetables
Grandma clings to.

He haunts my daily chore, lunges
when I head to the hen house,
where the ladies nestle, squawk
at the swift swipe of my nervous fingers
for the oblong, lifeless orbs that mean
money for my mother’s quilting thread.

These days of sweeping dirt floors,
kneading sourdough, churning butter,
our only breaks the quiet moments
darning clothes threadbare and long past
normal, I long to be clucking,
the lone master of my universe,
a land full of potential, absolute control,
the only thing I know.

Ramona Levacy
April 18, 2013

Posted in Faith, Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #17

For That Which Must Be Tried

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.  (Hebrews 11:1)

Reaching for the invisible God,
I come with arms open wide, with eyes
searching for a heart like His,
my whole being in the now,
until every cell vibrates in waiting
for the whisper of the Spirit
or the gift of that chance moment
to be the face of love unending
for another searcher, to one who needs
God’s touch to believe.

Listening for God and hearing
only my voice, I pray for His echo,
commit His words to memory
as truth, as the hope
that keeps all faith alive.

The more I reach for God, the less
I bind myself to what glitters,
to what will make me put myself
above everything, speak harsh words,
view the world down the length of my nose.

Reaching for the invisible God
is what peace feels like, a calm
washing over my insides,
like a fuzzy blanket on a long winter’s night.

Ramona Levacy
April 17, 2013

(Thanks to Philip Yancey’s title, Reaching for the Invisible God, for giving me my opening line for this poem.)

Posted in Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #16

To Another Woman’s Dream

 

The picture, faded around the edges, hangs
on the bare-wood wall above the table,
the room’s only furniture, except two benches
polished to a bright glow.

Squiggles along one side mark where the page
once lay in The Saturday Evening Post,
this household’s only link to linen napkins
and flower pots on ledges of unblemished windows
looking out to manicured lawns and box bushes
lined in rows.

Over the caption, Home Sweet Home,
bound by picket fence and rose bushes,
perches the white brick promise of rocking chairs
swaying on a long porch, a golden knocker hanging
on a bright-red door.

From sunrise to sunset, through her bread-baking,
feather-plucking, and the dripping of her sweat
on the dirt-packed floor, the picture points her
to something greener, or to the other thing,
the secret we all hide in dirty corners,
that unending thirst for more.

Ramona Levacy
April 16, 2013

(Note:  I wrote two poems today because the first time I tried to publish this, there was some sort of glitch, and the only thing that showed up was a picture I had used!  My actual poem had disappeared into the computer ether.  So, this is my re-write of what I had just done and had totally lost.  Now I know how Hemingway felt when his wife lost a suitcase full of his writing!  Yeah, I’m a Hemingway—NOT!)

Posted in Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #15

The Bond That Does Not Break

This child we have created
blinks at us, her doe-eyes,
large and round, clear
irises the color of the tiny span
of moments, all guarded and lovely,
all she knows of unblemished breath.

Her cries, even the smallest whimpers,
pluck strings in us we guessed
but did not know would blossom,
strong as steel, alert as Spidey senses,
the bonds for which we would count
as nothing the very marrow in our bones
if the sacrifice meant her smile
shining in this sphere just one more hour.

The Spirit, the gift He gave which never leaves us,
will be our Comforter, these days, when the horrors
blaring in unending bytes of binary code
and high-definition streams leave us
aching and wordless, our baby’s world
stretching before us in a scary unknowing
that has been since the beginning
in this fallen place.

We huddle above her crib,
pull the blankets snuggly to her chin,
and return her trusting stare with eyes
full of undeliverable promises,
all we have to offer.

Ramona Levacy
April 15, 2013

Posted in Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #14

The First Day of Summer

Our bare toes gritty in the sand,
the foamy saltwater
licking our calves in swirls,
we breathe the oxygen so free
around us, tingle with the light rays
warming skin grown pale
in winter’s hazy days.

These moments, when the heart
beats with the pulse of the earth’s core,
we believe anything, feel
like the sea turtles
in the violent pulses mid-ocean
moving with such careful intention,
they look like birds in the clouds,
floating for decades in purest peace.

Having now and only the promise of other days
of sunlight and seawater, we grab with two hands
the beauty of an afternoon together,
our own errant thinking the only obstacle
between ourselves and a loving God.

Ramona Levacy
April 14, 2013