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Poem “…for a big girl”

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“You’re attractive,
for a big girl,”
he said.
He thought
he was trying to
butter me up.
He thought
he was flirting.
He thought
he was showing
mercy.
He thought
that I would want
to date him
after that.
He thought
he was
doing me a favor
by lowering his standards
to go out
with a fat girl.

And now,
nearly 2 decades later,
I see on his Facebook page
that he weighs at least
a hundred pounds
more
than I did
at my largest,
and I wasn’t even
at my largest
when he paid me his
“complement”.
I’ve lost 50 pounds
from that

and he’s found it,
with interest.

I want to be snide
and I want to say
“You’re handsome,
for a big guy,”
but
I’d like to think
I’m better than that.
I’d like to think
I’m above
reminding someone
of their rudeness.

So I wrote it
into a poem
and posted it
on my blog
instead.

Out of kindness,
I won’t tag him.

Poem – I orbit God

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I orbit God
far away and near.
Circling away and close,
I never ever
stay close
for long.

Perhaps I’m a moth,
the flame of God
drawing me in.
Perhaps the flame will burn me.
Perhaps that is why
I move away.
Perhaps this is
the story
I tell myself
to not feel bad
about how far away
I’ve gotten.

Perhaps really, it is that
when I get close,
I forget.
I forget
how desperately
I need the light
when I’m close.
It is only when
I’m cold
and dark
that I remember
I need
the light
and I start to swim closer.

Poem – what is evil?

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How interesting that the Hebrew word for demon
שד

Is related to the word for fallow land
שדה בור

And battlefield, and minefield
And related to looted, robbed
שדדו

Evil is not using resources properly,
potential fruitfulness wasted,
through human means. It isn’t an accident.
It is
intentional or unintentional
mis-use of a gift from God.

Unintentionally
wasting your life
has the same result
as intentionally wasting it.
Not choosing
to be mindful,
to be a good steward
is to choose evil,
to allow it in.
There is no excuse for passivity.

Poem – your body is a sanctuary

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Your body is a sanctuary,
a home to a
piece of the
light
of God.

Just like a regular home,
you have to maintain it.
Just like a mosque
or a church
or a synagogue
or a temple,
you want to make sure
it is clean
and strong.

It is an act of worship,
of respect to God
to take care of your body
– to eat healthy food,
get exercise
and enough sleep,
to not put any poisons in it.

Just as you would not
dump a bag
of trash
in a house of God,
do not do so
to your body.

You wouldn’t allow vandals in,
who leave the place a shambles,
a wreck,
so don’t allow people
into your mind
who attack you
by bringing your down.

You are the keeper
and the guardian
of your sanctuary.
It is a gift from God to you.
How you take care of it
is your gift
back to God.
A strong, healthy body
is better able
to be of service
to God
by serving
the world.

Poem – we are all orphans

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We are all orphans, you and I,
regardless of what age we were when
our parents left us,
regardless of how
they left us,
regardless of if
they left us at all.

Thirteen or thirty makes no difference.
Death or divorce makes no difference.
The pain is the same.
The loss is just as deep,
the edges of the wound
just as jagged,
just as raw.

But we deceive ourselves
when we say
we miss
our parents,
because even when
they are alive and with us,
we still have a lack,
a feeling of loss.
Even when they are fully present
we are missing something.
We think
that when they die
we have a name for this feeling.
We call it grief.
But really we were grieving
even when they were with us.

Our lack, our loss,
is that we desire to be
One with the One.
We desire to be together
with our Heavenly Parent.
Not dead,
but fully
and totally
alive in that presence.

Just like how people who are dying,
even when they have not spoken
in days,
will cry to be home,
even when they are there
already.
It isn’t a physical address
they are longing for.
It isn’t a place.

Likewise it isn’t our earthly parents
we miss,
but our True Parent.

Poem – every bad thing

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Every bad thing God gives me
is my medicine, not my poison.
Each is carefully titrated, dosed
just for me, at that moment.

But they taste bad, have
unpleasant side effects
so I sometimes refuse,
sticking my tongue out.

So God gives it to me again
later, in a different form
so maybe I won’t recognize it
but this time
it is stronger,
because I’m sicker.

Poem – Who is your God?

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“You shall have no other gods before me.”

Sure, you worship God,
but what else
do you give power to?

Who has power over you
so that you feel
your life is not your own?
Who demands
too much
of your time?
Who are you afraid
to say
“No”
to?

Your boss,
your job,
your family,
even your
religious tradition?

Perhaps you worry about
your health
or how you are going
to pay your bills?

Every time you give your energy
to something or someone else
and think that it or he or she
controls you,
you have made it into your God.

Perhaps you have made yourself
into a god?
Perhaps you feel that you are
in control
of everything,
that your willpower,
your education,
your strength
will ensure
you will never
lack.

Is your to-do list
bigger
than your prayer list?

Who is your God?
There can only be one.
Pick wisely.

Poem – voices in your head

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Those voices in your head
that say “You’re no good,
– you aren’t doing enough,
– why even try?”

Don’t let them in.
They are door-to-door salesman
standing on your front step
banging on the door
ringing the doorbell.

They aren’t your friends.
Those people,
or those thoughts.

Don’t let them in.
Notice them, through the window,
through the peephole
and say “Go away!
I’m not buying what you are selling!”

Poem – fruity people

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There’s a Jewish prayer I say
every day
over the grapes I eat
at breakfast
and the wine I drink
at supper.

Blessed are you
Lord our God
Ruler of the Universe,
who creates
the fruit of the vine.

I’ve said it twice
every day
for a year,
but this time
I heard it
differently.

Here’s the thing –
God creates the fruit.
We are the fruit as well.
This means that if someone
isn’t “fruity”,
they aren’t productive,
they’re not doing anything
that seems useful,
it’s not something to blame them for.
That is entirely the result of God.
Don’t blame them
and don’t get mad at them.
It isn’t their fault.

Love them the way they are.

Also you can’t get mad at
a grape
or a plum
or an apple.

They’re all different
and they’re all needed.
One isn’t better than the other,
and all were created
by God
to be that way.

Poem – taking my leave

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It is a little like death,
this leaving.
I’m telling all my favorite patrons
and they say
“It was nice to know you “
as if I’ve said
I’m dying,
or moving to Minnesota.

They ask
“Is it closer to your home?”
“Is it a promotion?”
“Is it something you want?”

Some don’t catch the use
of the
passive
tense.
I’m being transferred.
It is a subtle difference,
but a difference
none the less.

They need someone
who is experienced
at this new-to-me
tiny branch,
someone
who knows
the rules and can stand
on her own.
Someone who is strong.
It is a complement
that they have such faith
in me.

But it is still hard,
after 14 years.
I grew this place.
I grew in this place.
I decided where everything went.
I created the flow.
I shaped it.
It shaped me.

I take my leave of this place.
This is the last time
I’ll walk in the park.
The last time
I’ll get the bookdrop.

I’ll be back, sure,
to fill in,
to catch up on hours
so I can get the weekend off.
I’ll teach a bead class.

But it is like
having a house
and planting a garden.
When you move,
someone else tends the plants
– or not.
Someone else does the repairs
to the bathroom tile
– or not.

It is a letting-go,
this leave taking.

It is a bit like death,
and being reborn.