Step Three: Rest

Papyrus 62, Mat-11.25-30-verso-10-12-14-16-IV
by unknown writer in 7th century

 “Come to me, all of you who are tired and have heavy loads. I will give you rest."

Matthew 11:28  International Children’s Bible (ICB)

A friend reminds us, as always, that we

know how to ease the load, to smooth the road.

We can decide to trust a greater Truth.

I can’t retain this in my head without

an act of will.  Remember this address,

my Mom would say.   It’s where we live.  It’s home.

And I rehearsed and I hung an ID

on my lanyard.  Like this landscape, like this

rock we can see and hold, God’s reminders.

Mercy, my friends, is there if we want it.

Mercy and gratitude to give and take

Rehearse it.  Carry prayers in pockets.

Inspired by readings and discussion in Buds of Jesus

 and by Richard Rohr's meditation 
"Twelve-Step Spirituality: Week 1, Step Three"


Part of my series, cf  Oh, Ye of Little Faith*

My blog poems are rough drafts. 

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Backseat Driving

Dad and me in Williamsburg sometime in the 1990s

Dad insists. on driving. just the same. as always

though I am. also old. finally. and retired.

I don’t like. night driving. I sit be.hind Daddy.

like I did. as a child. sucking on. my long hair.

How gawky. I am then. angular. unpopular.

much too poor. to join in. on field trips. way too smart.

Unable. to carry. a tune I. sing shyly.  Old Man River.

Anita’s. Going to. Get her kicks. Toni-i-ight.

The back seat. of the car. becomes a. dream machine

to read in. until car. sick nauseous. unfocused.

Dad pulls over.  helps me lean. out the door. damn. gagging.

I’m sorry.  he’s sorry.  all is well.  we drive on.

For my prompt 

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Parents, Guardians, Significant Adults in the Lives of Children

My blog poems are rough drafts. 

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Bully

Police issue X26 Taser with cartridge installed.

Anger took me by scruff of neck and shook

me furiously, urging me to scream.

And I let out a whopper, stunning those

who happened by though they were not at fault.

Then, spirit shaken, I calmed down a notch

and shook the evil demon off my back.

Around me, battered bodies proved my crime

though I could not remember harming them.

The power source dis-empowered my heart

and twisted it into a deadly storm.

But I don’t want to be a weather front

barreling through the valleys of my moods.

The question is who will be in control

when I feel rain and wind begin to blow.

Can love insist on hugging me instead

of letting rage distort my spirit so?

For my prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Bullying

My blog poems are rough drafts. 

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast