21 February 2017

Time Flies like Ravens Looking for Land

Flying raven
PBS


It’s already next week, and I don’t know
what happened to the last one.  Routine fanned
wings that never settled onto road bumps,
that never turned to look behind or feel
the call of nostalgia.  I want to heed
a call to protest, sure, but also want
to note time full before it passes on,
want images to pull me back to smiles
or tears, relief or gratitude that time was
and we lived it together.  No matter how
homeless I am today, I want to know
a homesickness enough for empathy.
I do, I do, if once I touch the ground
find love I lost, still inside safe and sound.




My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2017 Susan L. Chast





18 February 2017

Triggering the Ordinary

In the Meadow by Marianne Stokes (1895-1927)


Choosing a word to trigger awareness
of God’s presence and action within me,
I hesitate.  This word will symbolize
precious relationship, reality
and love forward and back.  My first instinct
is “now,” but I laugh that off as much too
ordinary.  “Buttercup” evokes gold—
a wealth beyond the hardened metal to
the food and sun of childhood.  It evokes
soft velvet beauty and fragility.

Strength, though, might be better, and so “backbone”
asserts itself.  It has the same b-sounds
and sense of stem and life, but adds power,
mobility, interiority—
yes. This feels right. Backbone is what I need
to settle into silent awareness
again and then again as I drift from
my intention.  Backbone will call me back.
And images of buttercups aglow
under children’s chins.  Both now, right now.



My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2017 Susan L. Chast



File:George Elgar Hicks - Buttercups.jpg
Buttercups by George Elgar Hicks (1889)


16 February 2017

What You Are

File:Drawing Starry Night over the Rohne by Van Gogh.jpg
Starry Night Over the Rhone by Vincent van Gogh

 

Stardust I’m told, but also a river—
A flowing body of ice cold water
and still more—its warm bedrock container.

Perception, true, but also awareness
that neither adds nor subtracts, but receives
and releases without straining borders.

You are clarity without consumption
and questions with time-sensitive answers—
not a sculptor with quickly setting clay.

Your presence meets mine (!) mixed media,
lively protean sensibility
coming / going simultaneously.

What you are is kindred and kind to me
inviting me to be quite near or far
as led, not judging where that should take us. 
What you are is artist, is magician,
is director, is performance itself,
and a sometime audience witnessing.


My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.

© 2017 Susan L. Chast


14 February 2017

Love That Surpasses*

Rosa gallica Evêque
painted by Redouté



It's life itself—from Beginning past End—
                    (Middle, too)
stem, bud, growth pains, rose and hip—love
that, cutback, grows again 
and at last thrives.

We can't reject this love. O, how I want
to find it!
We dropped it in a sandbox long ago
lost it one moonless night
then forgot it.

But now bring it!  All channels are open.
                    We could meet
around the City Hall since Jungle Gyms
are now too small.  Hold Hands. 
God loves us all.



*Ephesians 3:19-21



💞


My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.

© 2017 Susan L. Chast


09 February 2017

Happy Valentine's Day

File:Saint Valentin.png
source











Near Valentine’s Day this year,
I gave play and extra grocery
money to refugee assistance in the USA,
on the road, in the sea and under fire. 
Food tastes better and clothes fit well—
Hearts opened on my Valentines this year.

Near Valentine’s Day this year,
I sorted through over-abundance
of books, clothes and bedding and gave
away barely-used long-preserved treasures.
Food tastes better and space is wider—
Hearts opened on my Valentines this year.

Near Valentine’s Day this year,
I rediscovered buried skills teaching
writing that I would enjoy volunteering
so others can achieve long-term goals.
Food tastes better and I smile more—
Heart is open on my Valentines this year.

Near Valentine’s Day this year,
my love became more than sending
cards that please family and friends—
it became joy and joy became health.
Food tastes better and I am cooking—
Heart’s open on my Valentines this year.

Near Valentine’s Day this year,
I forged beyond commercial cuteness
to love more and better and raise hope
that we CAN heal the heart of democracy.
Food tastes better and living is prayer—
Heart’s open on my Valentines this year.




My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.

© 2017 Susan L. Chast





08 February 2017

Lost and Found

sanctuary lamp photo - 5
Source


“Your sacred space is where you can 
find yourself over and over again.”
― Joseph Campbell


When politics ache
I practice finding home
for warmth and sanctuary.

When heart aches, home
reaches out to find me
searching for it where I stand.

There, here, I enter
my lair with God, and God
is all I am, wild with love.

In this signal house
I perceive your Godness, too,
and call from my home to yours,




My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.

© 2017 Susan L. Chast