FROM ORDINARY

CROSSING ALONE

She followed him as he walked the sterile fields
hoping to retrieve the onion skins he shed
knowing she could not, would not,

cautiously stepping over and around
translucent skin where it fell;
and, when the field ended
at the bar she could not cross,
he climbed over and turned to her
and she saw his deep inner core,

sweet and desirable and hot with his pain.

Ordinary of Worship

To be deeply flawed
become a Lizzie Borden, Jack the Ripper

          To be so grievously cleft
          as to be a John Gacy, a Hitler

To be so perfectly healed
become a Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena

          To be so love flamed
          as to be Jeanne d'Arc, Martin Luther King,
          or Mother Theresa

These are not our territory

For though we walk, soul wounded
we are only lightly scarred

now that He has healed us
with searing touch

so gentle we are but ordinary

and so we order this day's worship

ordinary
          extraordinary
                    territory

of

His Hours

Cease Fire

Cease fire, she thought
as she buried her head
in her arms

Stop shooting the mortars
directly into my path
let them fall into a hole
somewhere else where I won't have
to dig through the debris
when the pile
topples
pick up those who are left
including myself
rummage through the rubble
to find some solid bricks

and try once again
to build something strong
from the wreckage
something able
next time around
to stand up to
falling hell

she uncovered her head
and moved through the dust
towards the wracked building
where yesterday her neighbors
lived and worked and played

Cease fire, she prayed
or hoped she did
for she could no longer hear

quiet now, it's quiet now

It's quiet now
they've all gone home
they wrapped all that food
crammed our refrigerator
washed the glasses
and tableware
lugged out the garbage bags
stuffed with paper plates
and congealed potato salad

they've gone home
leaving behind their parting words
"Let us know if there's anything
anything at all
we can do."
they've all gone home

it's quiet now
too quiet
I hear the candles guttering out
along the fence
the dry petals of flowers
piled along the sidewalk
rustle loudly
but there is no snick
of refrigerator door
no voice calling
"What's to eat?
Look what I got!"
no plop of book bag
on the floor

it's quiet now
no shatter pop of gunfire
no shouted gang slogans
no police sirens
tear apart the silence
no squealed last call of "Mama"
no running footfalls
no peel of rubber
pull my fear to find your bloodied form
emptied of laugher and warmth

it's quiet now
no more hymns of your classmates
no "Amens" can hide His words
"Forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive
those who trespass against us!"

it's quiet now
I can hear
the screaming
of
my soul