tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9877545633015413972024-03-05T00:09:39.128-08:00Pure Joy and PoetryPure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.comBlogger585125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-2953378350645583602024-02-09T12:56:00.000-08:002024-02-09T12:56:21.347-08:00Sin<p>I think what we are trying </p><p>to say is, Tell Me I'm Wrong. </p><p>The word you are looking for</p><p>has already been excised. </p><p>Your vocabulary does not</p><p>contain it. The word, in fact, exists. </p><p>Only it is</p><p>devoid of meaning. Now it is spoken</p><p>as a joke. As code for, </p><p>"what those hypocrites</p><p>preach in their tent meetings; what the tight-lipped</p><p>whisper over tea." It feels so far </p><p>from genocide, from death row. Somewhere someone </p><p>commits atrocities on purpose. Meanwhile, </p><p>we amuse ourselves. </p><p>We wear slippers, imagining</p><p>how we compare. </p><p> Until, some night</p><p>a splinter in the mind</p><p>tells us we too</p><p>carry the seed. </p><p> Until we feel a menace</p><p> rising in the throat, enough </p><p>to throttle the offender. </p><p>I am the devil. </p><p>We cannot call it like it is. We do not want to be rescued.</p><p>Only, some small</p><p>part of us is just, and wants to be damned. </p><p><br /></p><p>So we wander</p><p>hungry</p><p>for someone bold</p><p>enough </p><p>to name it. </p><p><br /></p><p>--</p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-52961923875816156822023-07-03T11:53:00.003-07:002023-07-03T11:53:59.444-07:00I Understand This Game<p><span style="font-family: arial;">Home, 3am</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
<br />
I understand this game.</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">You smile at me, and hide. </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Keep me awake until I split the blinds,</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">See the moon a lantern in the tree,</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And go outside to silence. </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">No cars on the road. No eyes. I stand</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On the picnic table, my shadow on the corn. </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Luckiest Girl Alive. I’m leaking. </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I remember how I wrote, </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">there is a deep loneliness</span></i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">I thought you understood, </span></i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">in our hush.</span></i></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">You were listening. Where does all the longing go,</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When it is medicated? It is out here,</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Flickering a hundred feet high, sparks</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">About to die. So small I gape to find them. <br />
<br />
I am open. I am all ears. I see You,</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In this space and darkness. I believe </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Velvet beauty will exist after I have staked my bets</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And taste the bitterness. After I am shackled</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And regret the getting. This wild, this whole mouth</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Of You will kiss me. Show me. I know You’re there.</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I understand this game. </span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />
A truck brakes on the highway. I stare, aghast -</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">How completely the cloud bank</span></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Covers up the moon. </span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-25695332533096282012023-04-09T03:04:00.001-07:002023-04-09T03:04:39.603-07:00Our Early, Reprise<p><span style="caret-color: rgb(97, 97, 97);"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You said,</span></span></p><p><i style="caret-color: rgb(97, 97, 97); font-family: inherit;">They’ll never love me for my face, </i><span style="caret-color: rgb(97, 97, 97); font-family: inherit;">and I said, </span></p><div style="caret-color: rgb(97, 97, 97);"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I will love you for your face.</span></i></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(97, 97, 97);"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">And you lay your head in the bend </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">of my arm and I told you </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">the old reasons. </span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was nothing you hadn’t heard before.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was everything you needed to believe.</span></p>
<div><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was mother’s milk. It was oxygen.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">You retched, but you grew still.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I thought you slept - </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">then,<br /><i>thank you,</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">soft as dawn.<br /><br /><br />That was how we whispered </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">when your skin was raw </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">and blistered and your sleep so fragile </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">it was was broken by </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">a shaft of light.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div></div>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-7136251989385791692023-02-19T06:03:00.000-08:002023-02-19T06:03:04.582-08:00Sometimes I Am Stunned By My Dreams (February 14 2023)<p>"What if it was courage, not jealousy? What if it was courage, not jealousy?"</p><p>"I hate being a girl!"</p><p>She raved while thrashing alligators in the bog. Saving John Travolta, the man she loved, who had many many lovers. </p><p>He was King Solomon. He spoke the poetry of Scripture. He was also stupid in his wisdom, and the world was made in such a way that she would never be free to love nobly. Always and forever she would be misunderstood; a woman, therefore motivated by the pettiest of emotions. </p><p>She also doubted herself. Is the quality of love revealed in the object of its affection? If so, what of God? If so, she was a sorry creature indeed. </p><p>Sometimes I am stunned by my dreams. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-55444339115515791942023-02-19T05:55:00.000-08:002023-02-19T05:55:36.410-08:00By Foot, Starting Now (January 15 2023)<p>What is the real condition of humankind?</p><p>What is the real character of God?</p><p>Is it possible to love and be damned? Is it possible to kill and be forgiven?</p><p>Is it possible to preach the Gospel without squeezing everyone's foot into cheap Nikes? Plastic. Made abroad in sweatshops. Is this the best we have to offer? </p><p>Sometimes I am tired of materials. Relieved, a little, that I wear socks with holes and clothes from both grandmothers and Elisabeth Elliot. It's a lipstick economy. I take that back - a tinted lip balm economy. Five dollars to feel pretty. Someone could eat on that for a week. I used to, with a few basics at home. </p><p>What makes me think people need art? Is it because I need art? Could I even live without music? I would learn. If I were blind, I would become a masseuse and a voice actor. And really play the guitar. Like water, not like candy. Help me live already.</p><p>Don't let me wait around for love. Don't let me shop for it, and consult my list. Help me live it and recognize it and multiply it and not give up when the world is overwhelming. "Make straight Your way before me." (Ps. 5) I can make war without even getting out of bed. I can pray for people I've never met. I can teach the birds to come to my hand. I can get there by foot, starting now. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-65494633984655260672023-01-17T13:08:00.000-08:002023-01-17T13:08:34.703-08:00Retreat, September 10 2022<p>I want to go on a solo retreat.</p><p>To Adelynrood.</p><p>I want to be deeply silent for days. To be fed. To walk a labyrinth. To be off my phone, computer. No screens. I want to write letters, drink tea. Walk seven miles. I want to sing in a sanctuary. I want to feel my body shed its stress. This reminds me of Italy. Of the places I've rested before. </p><p>Windows remember, as do doors...*</p><p>Purple Loosestrife. </p><p>The chapel. That almond-eyed icon.</p><p>The slow, long notes with room to swell and blend. Finally confident.</p><p>I want to make, without fear. Not because the fire is under me, but because it is in me.</p><p>Why did I love practices so much? Play. Being. The discovery of sounds. Synchronicity. Shalom. I began to think the world needed me to push harder. But the world needs more Sabbath.</p><p>I need more trees, and poetry.</p><p>I need fewer things. </p><p><br /></p><p>Rest. </p><p>You can't afford not to.</p><p>Who is my enemy? What do we do with our enemies? What do we do with our friends? </p><p>How do I pray for a hundred people? How do I feed a multitude? Where are the wounds?</p><p>The widow's mite. The widow's might - surrender.</p><p>How much do you have? That's what you give. All I have to live on.</p><p>Freedom is having nothing. Floating.</p><p>Birdsong.</p><p>Opposite of soldier.</p><p>"Opposite of doormat"**</p><p>What are the stories I tell myself? About myself?</p><p>What do You say about me? </p><p>I don't have to prove to anyone what I am, what I am not. You have already made the way for me. Misunderstood Messiah. Moshiach. </p><p>Leafless. But the vines climb up the tree. </p><p>God is right in front of me. Why would I text Him? Why do I search for signs instead of looking in His eyes? </p><p>He wants to hold your body whole. How terrifying. </p><p>The grave takes everything. What is essential resurrects. </p><p>I want to write better letters. I want hours.</p><p>What do my feelings tell me?</p><p>My anger, my worry, my fear?</p><p>What am I hungry for?</p><p>What illuminates the world? Whose validation do I crave?</p><p>What gives me courage? </p><p><br /></p><p>Plucked away from survival, I'm desperately tired. Aggressively sleepy, like nothing else matters. Like I must sit still and grow a chrysalis, no matter what. </p><p>Stiff. Dead to the world. Let the quiet things inside do their work. Enough. Here it will happen. </p><p>No more outer effort. No more food. All I need now: to be still. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">* See Carolyn <span style="font-family: times;">Forch</span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-small;">é </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">, "Travel Papers"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">** Danielson, "Good News for the Pus Pickers"</span></p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-22781953895841902952022-03-26T11:03:00.000-07:002022-03-26T11:03:14.651-07:00Life Together<p><i>A dream, January 2022</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p>We figured out how to live together. </p><p>Tossing down the carcasses of large birds</p><p>from the upper shelf. We made room </p><p>for my luggage. I would use the curtain</p><p>for privacy. I would wear headphones. </p><p>I would laugh quietly. I would go outside.</p><p>Neither of us would pass gas. Ever. Even </p><p>into the mattress. I would not shed hair. </p><p>Eventually,</p><p>we would resent each other. </p><p>We would prefer the dead raven, and be dignified </p><p>and silent. Sharing nothing but what we had to share:</p><p>the air. The kind you cut through. </p><p><br /></p><p>--</p><p><br /></p><p>I know</p><p>what intimacy is. It is</p><p>to know</p><p>that look.</p><p><br /></p><p>For better or worse</p><p>we are social beings.</p><p>We must keep warm.</p><p><br /></p><p>It is wonderful </p><p>to have someone to tell</p><p>your good news. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-47252900783114238942020-11-29T16:38:00.004-08:002020-11-29T16:38:28.845-08:00Elephant, July 13 2020<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">HOW DO YOU EAT AN ELEPHANT?</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Surprise on Monday,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">chewing glass and spitting blood</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">into the trash can. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Surprise, it’s not construction</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">but a small brown pony</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">looking like a stuffed toy,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">broken, bloated in the sun,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">at the edge of the front loader.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">About to be cleared away</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">from drivers in metal cars</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">who don’t know if Amish children</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">in cobalt blue and coral</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">were cleared away earlier.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We drive on. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Hot leather bites bare legs</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">on the car seat. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Summer sets in, and sinks its teeth. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We remember the days of grief,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">passions congealed, but reversible</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">by new offense, by fresh blood.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">By the next evidence </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">of injustice.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">There never was an innocent time</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">in our remembrance. Gardens are always</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">eager with their weeds. And the lettuce bolts</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">too soon. We look back and ask</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">whether we did anything good, or only made ourselves</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">impatient, and older. Hair unkempt, and pimples</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">in obvious places.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">ONE BITE AT A TIME.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Devilish nymphs of lantern flies </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">suck the stems of anything green. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We try to smash them. We embarrass ourselves</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">in the attempt. One in four is too slow, </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">so we keep trying. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We chew the broken glass</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">mixed in the jar of salsa.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We spit beet juice and blood</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">into the porcelain sink. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We worry about our insides,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">waiting to see what the damage will be</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">in the end of things. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">There never was an innocent time</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">since we drew breath. It is almost </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">as if we asked for this. Building our webs </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">so slyly we forget which threads </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">are viscous. Prey to our own devices.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Shocked at the harm we do, </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">when all we’ve done is live</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"> - like everyone else -</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">we use phones,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">we drive cars. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Children shouldn’t be </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">on the highway with horses. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">It really is a shame.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">But this is what you get.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">No use pretending</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">it’s the old days.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">A moment of silence</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">to think about your feed,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and move on.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Pretty soon the elephants</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">will be extinct anyway;</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">all these rescues are corrupt. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Be glad you lived</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">in a day when you could witness greatness,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">visit the zoo, breathe. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">The water in a few places was still clean</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">enough to swim in, to feel light. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Frame this vista</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and keep it for yourself,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">to look at</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and feel lonely in later,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">when you forget the sticky crowds</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and only see the blue, those hills, </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">not in memory, but in pixels.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Someone someday will earn your trust,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and you will show them your ivory tusk,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">purchased at a steep price on the black market.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">An investment,</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">because someday the elephants will all be extinct</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and someone will need proof</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">they existed.</div></div>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-83937263171607487442020-11-29T16:27:00.001-08:002020-11-29T16:27:12.692-08:00Damnation, July 7 2020<p>It ought to bother me. </p><p>And I believe it's true, but I believe it like a child confessing to a lie - the admission will destroy me, and reveal a whole mess of consequences, and make me cry. </p><p>"There is more beauty in truth, even if it is dreadful beauty." (Steinbeck)</p><p>You came to save. Please save. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-80741292667188442912020-11-29T16:15:00.000-08:002020-11-29T16:15:42.249-08:00Woman Builds Her House, July 2 2020<p>Please fill him with hope and strength, wisdom and confidence, peace and joy, wherever he is. Help us find each other, and recognize each other, and keep our hearts, eyes, and hands open. </p><p>Lord, I want a family. And I want to make a home, and share it. I want to make music, and dinner, and love. I want to commit to a place and its people. I want to hike the Appalachian Trail, and see the Grand Canyon, and read my favorite books aloud. I want to pick up hitchhikers. I want to plant gardens and share what they produce. I want to babysit and run errands and make care packages, and go on retreats, and create, and create retreats for others. </p><p>I want my body to be home. For You, always. And for a man, and for little ones. I want to accept and enjoy every change it takes on. I want to learn new languages, and re-learn old languages, like the language of music, and of touch. I want to learn how to really pray, and intercede, and speak up, and listen. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-42462973804971084462020-11-29T16:00:00.002-08:002020-11-29T16:00:36.164-08:00Sister Prayer, June 28 2020<p>Quiet the voices. Silence the lies. Speak and be heard. </p><p>We desire You. We know we were made for You, and nothing else can satisfy. Restore to us the joy of Your salvation. Give us concrete ways to work and grow and love others well. </p><p>Help us to be faithful, even when others are flaky. Help us to trust Your faithfulness, even when we fail. Remind us that we have nothing to prove to anyone, that we are free and covered in Your blood, and belong to You. </p><p>Help us to offer our whole selves to You, and all we have, and trust You to give us only more of Yourself, our true good, even in suffering. </p><p>Let us be women of dignity, strength, peace. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-50312611053439979382020-09-06T13:52:00.000-07:002020-09-06T13:52:27.342-07:00What Would I Wish, May 29 2020<p>"True life is lived when tiny changes occur." (Tolstoy).</p><p>I am living true life. </p><p><br /></p><p>Please help me pray. Please help me love. Please use me only for good. </p><p>Please give me ways to stand up for what is right. Thinking about Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and so so so so many others. What if one day it is my son? What would I wish I had been saying and doing now?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-56861678777110298852020-08-09T13:40:00.002-07:002020-08-09T13:40:24.484-07:00The Day You Just Wasted - May 25 2020<p>When one thing ends, another starts. This is my whole future. Whatever tomorrow is supposed to be, please help me live it and not be anxious, ashamed for taking today slow or for any other reason. You have given me so much. </p><p><i>"The day you just wasted is the day that someone who died yesterday wanted so badly to have."</i></p><p>This scares me, and it doesn't take You into account, but the truth in it should galvanize me. This is my one life. Will I live it to be sexy? To get whatever I want next? For a good reputation? </p><p>Will I push hard because I'm afraid to stop? Will I be too afraid of failure or mistakes to push hard? Will I always be comparing? </p><p>Free me, please, Lord Jesus!</p><p>Help me to learn what this time should be. To use whatever I have to worship You. Thank You, thank You, for never giving up on me and for all the ways You get my attention. And for correcting me, and healing me, and wounding me. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-16785632253629915402020-08-09T13:26:00.000-07:002020-08-09T13:26:26.571-07:00Sweet Spot, May 23 2020<p>I'm savoring this sweet spot. It's how I feel about this time, in general. The last week has been pretty sweet. There's a kind of safety in unknowing - we can't do much, can't make any plans. So here we are. Reading, eating, gardening, painting, having phone calls, cooking, sleeping, watching K-dramas. Our troubles are fairly small. Most of my grievances are minor and petty. I have so much to be thankful for. Help me keep my hands open, live this time fully, and enter the next season with courage, sobriety, and hope. </p>Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-64945502291863651432020-06-21T14:04:00.000-07:002020-06-21T14:06:16.191-07:00Bare Minimum, May 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's easy to blame myself. And then exonerate myself. And return with, "You just don't want to acknowledge your laziness and lack of love. You've basically done the bare minimum as a friend".<br />
<br />
I've tried to be encouraging, but have I meant what I said? How often have I shaken my head inwardly, "Can't X just get over XXX?"<br />
I have been relieved at our distance. I have been quick to think "not my problem". I <u>do</u> need to have boundaries, I'm no one's savior. Yet, is this love?<br />
Is this how Jesus would see the sufferings, the sensitivities, the <i>illnesses</i> of others?<br />
Please help, Lord. Show me what is true, and help me to accept it. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-65818976162016959082020-06-21T13:50:00.001-07:002020-06-21T13:50:54.701-07:00Listless, May 8 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Jesus, please help me. I feel very gray and stupid. Wanting things inordinately. Being horribly careless about other things and people.<br />
<br />I want to be able to shop at BB's and thrift stores and to borrow movies from the library. I want to swing dance and contra dance, and sing at church, and hold babies, and pet dogs. And I want to play music with friends.<br />
<br />I don't want to talk on the phone. And I'm itchy to check messages, but at the same time I don't want to reply to anything. And my food feels tiresome and monotonous. And my work feels the same. I don't feel much need for money, although I guess I'd rather make it than not.<br />
<br />It's cold and damp outside. I am such a spoiled, ignoble humbug. Please. Help.<br />Please stir me up to love again. Help me do the next little thing attentively, willingly, obediently, joyfully.</div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-21975104672116487502020-06-21T13:37:00.001-07:002020-06-21T14:07:17.358-07:00The Most Pathetic Love, May 1 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm in another spike of magnetism. It might be hormonal. But that's boring. I do need hope for <strike> a little </strike> romance in my life. And to not always look at it through snide, self-critical, self-conscious eyes. That's the most pathetic thing of all, and shows a weak affected sort of love, that can't stand to seem ridiculous. Please help me have a firm, bold, self-forgetful love. And to have hope that I can be loved that way, in return. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-60519322150975372562020-06-21T13:28:00.001-07:002020-06-21T13:28:54.890-07:00Few and Far Between, April 26, 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How strange it is to find myself at a place of ill preparation and low motivation for everything I've really wanted to do. For marriage and motherhood. Adoption. For a career in art. Even for sustained, supportive, close friendship.<br /><br />Is this what growing up is like? Discovering everything you want is hard, and you may not even like it, and the days your choice and your passion coincide are few and far between? I hope not. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-70718353407512728822020-05-30T12:39:00.001-07:002020-05-30T12:39:48.641-07:00For Bread, Confidently, April 25 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Please cleanse me of my unholy ambitions and my fear of man. Of my wish to perfect myself. Please make me willing to ask for help and forgiveness. And for bread, confidently.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-56362492475539298612020-05-30T12:37:00.001-07:002020-05-30T12:37:41.555-07:00So Predictable, April 25 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Please help. So irritable. Not very eager or trusting of truth and goodness. Not very teachable.<br />
<br />
Recalcitrance, sloth. Rebellion, which is so predictable. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-7606559532178642742020-05-30T12:33:00.003-07:002020-05-30T12:33:36.212-07:00Limitations, April 21 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Please help me not to compare, not to complain, not to become fearful that the best years of my life are over, or that I've become less useful to You. Help me to use what You've given me, and trust You in my limitations and circumstances. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-11019682649489091752020-05-30T12:31:00.000-07:002020-05-30T12:42:00.292-07:00Adaptable, April 19 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Relationships are so hard. I feel less and less competent to do them well, the older I get. I feel so provincial now. And like a sensitive houseplant who can't be moved, and that scares me. I want to be whole and flexible, and able to adapt. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-63769891589454929102020-05-30T12:24:00.003-07:002020-05-30T12:24:40.081-07:00Well-Meaning Christian Ladies, April 18 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We well-meaning Christian ladies can really put our feet in our mouths. Can do such damnable harm even while we try to do good. God help us.<br />
I know rebellion is not the answer, but I cannot live for any other human's conscience or approval. Help me. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-74652555075190965562020-05-30T12:00:00.000-07:002020-06-21T14:08:48.827-07:00It is Enough for Me to Rest in You, April 5 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Feeling somewhat forgotten. Or in danger of it.<br />
<br />
Imagining myself writing and recording really beautiful heart-wrenching music. Why? For Your glory? For healing people? No. So I would get attention.<br />
<br />
Please please help me out of my stupidity and egoism.<br />
Will I be alright? Will You make beauty through me? Will I love and be loved?<br />
A resounding YES. So take a chill pill, chicken.<br />
<br />
And today, help me do and think and feel whatever is right. Help me rest. Help me dwell in You, in truth, in peace. There is another level of slowing down I hardly ever reach, but which is real worship. You are enough. It is enough for me to rest in You. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-65198657834267844492020-04-15T06:03:00.000-07:002020-04-15T06:03:49.208-07:00One Salvation, April 4 2020<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My one salvation is You.<br />
Not work, or food, or sleep, or emotion. Not my own cunning. I certainly feel the tug to be very savvy and impressive, these days. To control anything I can lay my hands on. Tomorrow is the Sabbath. Please let me swallow all Your rain. And receive Your discipline, as well as Your abundant love. </div>
Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.com0