Category Archives: poems

Ashes, ashes

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When my thoughts go to your younger years and I hear your deep voice cursing the time, my eyes fill with hot tears and I wonder if singing Jesus Loves Me with you as a toddler was enough.

I lit a fire this New Year and watched the hot embers fly high and burn out fast and fall cold and faltering to the ground and felt my mothering was the same.

A seed may die and defiantly sprout up to new life and grow a tree. But ashes, ashes, they just fall. Hot for a moment and that’s all.

I have no hope for these burned out years unless ashes can be traded. But who does that?

I don’t know how, but here I offer all my ashes. Will you take them Resurrected? Will you make them a crown?

This year

This year I watched the world burn
with anger and lies
I watched my sons wallow in the mire
and I prayed.

This year I watched my friends build theories about conspiracies
and I watched my neighbors wave their flags high.

This year I heard cries for justice from the least of us among us and felt strange disdain from those who I thought would claim the fame of Jesus and gladly refrain from blaming

…but they didn’t.

This year I heard a woman say, “I can’t bear the grief anymore,” while one side of her body tried to dragged her to the floor and I stood close and propped her up and helped her see the ones she loves through the window on the third floor.

This year I cried for deliverance
“How long,” can I keep asking you to grant repentance?

This year I felt overwhelmed by the throngs of elders left alone to let someone else find them shelter

and we stood by.

This year I sat next to Job and decided to shut my mouth and hold
his hand.

This year I opened my mouth and said, “Follow Jesus with me!” to the friend who cried not knowing what she could possibly do with her falling apart life.

This year I realized I couldn’t see past the thorn in my side and the plank in my eye and almost decided to give up.

But what? What is there to let go of except the delusion and illusion that this coming year or another person would bring Shalom.

This year made me long more for home
and King
and the ones he’s redeemed.

In me

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there’s a dancer

a singer

a crafter

a word-wielder

In me there’s a hospital builder

a wound washer

a home maker

a child discipler

In me there’s a shepherdess

a prophetess

a pianist

a lyricist

In me there’s a warrior

a defender

a rescuer

a runner

a strong-armed carrier

In me there’s a companion

a champion

a queen on her knees

making way for the weak

In me there’s a servant

a diligent worker happy to labor till the day

her King scandalously bows to say

“Well done. Be seated. Let me serve you, my beloved.”

Christ, in me. My hope of glory.

Whatever you do this Christmas

Come

with your indifference

with your mocking

with your doubts

with your questions

come with your lies

with your rejection

with your acceptance

with your imperfections

come with your health

with your doctrine

with your thoughts

with your past

come with your burdens

with your poverty

with your riches

with your fear

whatever you do just come near

to the king come to set you free

He fled

lion on green grass field
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All this time I shrunk back.
I heard the low rumble of his growl
I remembered the pain
The times he blamed and enticed me
to curse God and die.

I remembered sinking in the sand
he told me was solid ground.
And I pulled back.

There is a lion out there
in the street.

I thought he’d rip me limb from limb.
I heard his rumble,
his pride,
his lie,
and I believed it.

I was hiding.
I was trying to be comfortable.
I was trying to be safe.
I was sinking.

But you brought me to your people.
You surrounded me with faithfulness.
You told me your name.
You made me brave.

I was out there today-
in the street
where the lion prowls.
He was there.
He started to growl.
I remembered Your crown.
I knocked,
she answered.
I invited
and he fled.

 

body, bread and gummy fruit

four toddler forms circle photo
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I “teach” a preschool class at my church a couple times a month. It’s not really teaching, it’s an effort in preventing total rebellion amongst 4 year olds for 1 hour. This poem was sparked by how God always uses those kids to teach me what it’s like to be part of his family. When I sit down, on their level, pull out some food, and read them a story about Jesus… their rebellion stops and they listen. It’s a testimony to me. I wrote this for a writing contest at Fathom Mag, and although I wasn’t a selected winner for the contest, I loved trying to condense my feelings about God’s work through 4 year olds into appropriate words.

 

Projectiles fly
Bodies collide
“That’s mine!”
Untamable troop
Condescend to crisscross thighs
Offer of gummy fruit
Brings instant mute
Rebellion invaded with feast
Snack and story
One came to our waring
Offered body, bread and juice
Peace introduced

Fly fishing lesson

IMG_7038Start with yarn
Begin with listen
Commence to lake
Now watch
Make a loop
Pull the line
It’s all in the forearm
Just a whip
Nice
Now do this
Tall young men
Students
Wise fisher woman
Guide
It’s not boring
Constant moving
Scenic views
Meadow
Pine
and Spruce
The breeze slowed
Line now dances
Without folding mid-throw
Whip
Whizz
Drop
Slip
Fly in the water
Now pull
Cast farther

Hannagan Meadow In My Ear

animal avian beak bird
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

warm sunlight
on my chest
cool high-altitude breeze
on my face

sun-kissed skin
cool touch from wind
songs of finch beckon
in my ear

rush of sound
wave of air
through Aspen
Spruce and Pine

wings a flutter
thousands of reps per second
green, blue shimmering wings
in my ear

inches from my face
she shows me her aviary body
royal in appearance
real life fairy

here on the porch
in my ear
by my face
spear for mouth

painted face shines
green and gold
and she’s gone
just a glimpse

her hum travels
behind her
caw of crow
bark of dog

caretakers awake now
moving their load to the lodge
humans aware
slow moving

long hair
find rest
in the fast
hum of air

the war is over grandma

grandma was a little girl
back in 45
“It’s over. The war.”
her teacher hollered outside

she remembered that day
outside the schoolhouse
also a church
kicking the can to play

she remembered being mad
the teacher’s news meant
no more fun
she wanted to run

she recalled the holler
little river rock house
where she was born
from there her heart was torn

at 15 the boy on the bus
became her husband
took her with him to Cali
far from momma and daddy

sweet 16, Bobby Ray
my pa made her a mommy
“I was just a kid babe”
Shook her head remembering that day

four more children
in her teens and early 20’s
Terry, Gary, Greg and Tommy
her sweeties

she had regrets
tears can’t take her back
to the day when her son
left to go with his dad

“I thought I was doing what was right”
bitter tears flowed from her eyes
down wrinkled cheeks
her hand in mine

“I was just a kid”
she lamented what she did
to his daughter
now she pled

“It’s ok grandma”
i held her close
her tiny frame
tucked next to my breast

“If we could just have had hindsight
we could have loved better”
she wished she could have seen
what her youth wouldn’t let her

she talked. I listened
those days after the lesion
when cancer pressed
brain, bone and breath

grandma was a little girl
83 knocking on heaven’s door
she tasted the love of the Father
in being her daddy’s daughter

she remembered the love
no sentiment of sainthood
she knew sin, hers
and those of her kin

she remembered being a girl
loved by a dad
forgiven
even still

that trust she once had
before her childish run
to play grownup went bad
became her hope in the Son

“Unless you become like a child”
she quoted the Bible
she knew now what Jesus meant
His red words New Testament

grandma was a girl
the Teacher stopped her play
and gave her His peace
she went home with today

 

(My late grandma Oleta and I in conversation weeks before she passed. She was an “older woman” in my life too.)

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