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broken hope

1/25/2015

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Picture
There is something so sad and, yet, so hopeful about this old cottonwood tree. I loved this tree dearly.

I took the long way to work to see it each day. It dominated its surroundings. T
wo or three people with outstretched arms could almost span its girth. It was roughly 30 feet tall; more than 90 or 100 years old. Lightning and wind claimed half of it. The remaining half sprouted silvery green leaves each spring and it was home to multiple bird families every year. Each season it expressed itself in changing colors and sounds. Many people and animals found shelter beneath its generous arms and leaned into its sturdy trunk for support and rest. It spoke to me and inspired me to write the following poem in 2009:

                                            
The Sentinel


it is not our girth nor our height
nor the straight and rigid backbone
that helps us to meet
the rhythms of the seasons
the pummel of  hailstones
the weight of many thousand leaves
the forces of the gales
the lightning strikes
summer’s  fever
and winter’s endless frigid shadows

it is our capacity to sink deep roots
that reach for sustenance
in hidden waters
our willingness to be molded and shaped
by forces of the seasons
to be bent and gnarled
to stretch beyond our beginnings
into many branches
to lean, to sigh
to flourish and to rest 

it is in our brokenness
with our scars scabbed over by time
that we become
creatures of infinite beauty
strong
trustworthy
generous of spirit
existing only to be 
of service and 
of love
                                                                                                            

The Sentinel still gives inspiration to me in these current troubled times with instantaneous news flashes about bombings, shootings, inhumane acts of violence and retaliation. And global warming, disease outbreaks, oil spills and uranium pollution.  And, and, and ...... on and on.

Recently Luther Allen, a poet friend in Bellingham, WA, my former home, put out a call for poems and prayers for a new year of hopefulness to counter the constant threats of destruction and death. Thirty poems by thirty poets were read last Sunday night, January 18, at SpeakEasy15 held at Mt. Baker Theatre. My poem "prayer for the day" was read by my friend, Lois Holub, as the opening entry to set the tone for the evening.  I was thrilled to be included and would have loved to be there.  Poetry read out loud is very moving and poetry addressing this theme was extremely powerful.  If you would like to read all of the poems go to Luther's website: www.othermindpress.wordpress.com/speakeasy/speakeasy-15

I put "prayer for the day" on my website last spring and gave many copies to those attending an author's open house here in Hot Springs last April. It's on my poetry page again today.  Along with The Sentinel, I offer a view of hope and conviction in our world of brokenness.  We are the hope. We are the Sentinel. We are the prayer.   
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    musings may delight or disturb;  musings may spark new activity, sometimes. . . . .

    Phyllis shares current musings, momentary insights, process in motion.


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