Passing through, don’t you know
We’re just passing through?
This journey of life, so full of strife —
We’re just passing through.
It’s all just a dream, or so it seems —
Sometimes a nightmare of terrors,
Or at it’s best — a comedy of errors.
The saints and sinners,
The losers, the winners.
The rich and famous,
The poor and infamous.
The weak, the strong,
The hopeful, the wrong.
All loved by God,
All beautiful in His eyes —
No time to compromise
His love for you.
Well, our older cat may be in her last days, so this poem came to mind.
It’s really more about people, but maybe it’s all connected.
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A meditation on death …
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The light shines for awhile,
And then it palls.
Remember the light
When darkness falls.
Remember the good,
Remember the best,
Hold on in your heart,
To memory best.
Think not of the end,
For it really begins
A new door to freedom,
A new door within.
Many good times
Of laughter and love.
All multiplied
In heav’n above.
Bury me by the river,
Though I hope to be heaven-bound.
If there are rivers in heaven,
They’ll be peaceful, and broad, and sound.
The water brings deep refreshment,
Its lapping, a spirit of calm.
When the saints go down to the river,
There will be a glorious song.
Oh, bury me by the river,
And I’ll think of you in my new home,
And pray for your peace and protection,
As through life’s trials you roam.
Sweat drools down my face,
Salty taste on my tongue.
With peppermint bug spray,
So far no bugs have stung.
Some crops do well;
Others are a bust.
Bugs get to many;
At least they don’t have rust.
Sometimes all sweaty,
My clothes a bit wet.
I sure need a shower,
But no time for that yet.
Build up the compost,
Water if soil is dry,
Pull all those weeds up;
At least I have to try.
Do a bit of harvesting;
That’s the satisfyin’ part.
All the work I’ve put in —
It’s warming to the heart.
As soon as I come in,
Take a shower right away.
Don’t want those chiggers and skeeters,
To start their itchy way.
Ah, now time for a cool drink,
Chug that water down.
Have a seat in the parlor,
A smile replaces frown.
An hour or more into the sale;
One customer so far.
Trying not to look at my cell phone,
But instead enjoy the neighborhood.
I’m in a lovely patch of shade
On this hot and humid day.
A light breeze blows, and it’s quiet,
But for the birds and the remaining cicadas.
So pleasant to sit in the quiet,
Observing neighbors go by –
None of them interested in buying.
Two boys keep riding their bikes
Back and forth, back and forth.
A man walks by, across the street,
Looking at his cell phone.
Well, I might quit early,
Though I have some good things to sell,
Like vegetable plants and fresh garlic.
The second day of summer – so quiet.
—————————–
No, wait, a few more people drop by,
Some retired folks from a neighboring town.
Also a young man, and possibly his mother –
Real estate people who stage houses.
They didn’t buy anything, but so what?
I’m having a blast on this quiet day.
I love meeting people from various places.
Then, a few more show up and spend a few dollars.
As far as noise, don’t forget the lawn mowers –
They aren’t quiet, but part of the daily warm-weather ambiance.
I read a book when it’s really slow,
Or listen –the birds and cicadas keep chattering.
There must be a swim party down the street.
Cars park a few doors away; children in swimwear.
They won’t be buying anything here.
At last the hour comes, to end the sale.
Many items packed, to give away –
And some left out with a sign saying “FREE!”;
Some items taken with glee.
At dusk, some items still remain.
I slowly put it all away.
Only $4.50 in profit made,
But had a pleasant, quiet day.
The second day of summer.
Three boys ride bikes along the road,
Fishing poles bending as they go –
Nearby must be a fishing hole.
Three deer burst through the dense woods deep;
Their hooves ring loud along the street.
I wonder if they’re good to eat?
Three rabbits pranced among the clover,
A baby and two others, older;
And then they run for shelter, cover.
Three stars danced in the sky so bright –
Planets, or just meteorites?
They spread a fantasy of light.
Three Persons in eternity,
One Being in infinity,
One bond in perpetuity.
They come in swarms, they call them broods,
Their buzzing, constantly renewed.
They sometimes light upon your arm,
Though do not mean a real harm.
Their eyes bug out, a little red,
From a black oval (that’s their head).
Their wings, like glass with yellow veins,
And little legs with orange strains.
The rhythm of their coming varies —
Some 13 years, though others tarry
For 17 years — the species vary —
And there are some who yearly come.
We wake up to their constant hum —
Unharmonious, instrumental thrum.
A background noise you can’t escape,
Though birds will gladly seal their fate.
Factually, they’re pretty cute,
Potential mates might give pursuit.
But if one happens in your hair,
A squeal of fright you might declare.
Outdoors we gather, amongst the silent graves,
Bedecked with flags, each soldier’s resting place.
I sit in silence, waiting for Mass to begin;
Unearthly cicada sounds, the only din.
Just before, sev’n planes flew overhead,
Not to bomb, but to plume their smoke instead.
The bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” —
I weep, but not just grieving tears —
There’s joy that soldiers may be in a better place,
Taking advantage of God’s grace.
I have no words for those who were so brave,
Or perhaps unwittingly went to grave.
I cry for all the lost and all the dead,
For any harmed by war’s sick dread.
The sun, the warmth, is healing on my skin.
I pray, that through our pain, we all will heal again.
I lived in a fairy tale dream
Of mostly sunny days —
Little disease and little pain —
Then reality came.
I felt accused of misplaced trust,
Defensive, and defend I must.
The hopes of wanting to believe,
The criticisms ill conceived.
And cancer struck, not once, but twice.
These unexpected enemies caused
A leeriness, and gave me pause.
Life wouldn’t go on as I had thought —
Events could happen, unannounced,
Nothing seemed safe; nothing sound.
The sunny days had turned to dark,
The world, instead, became more stark.
I had to be ready; I had to be armed.
And then to move o’er 2,000 miles,
Uprooted, after 67 years –
Somehow, that caused a lot of tears.
—
Each day that passes, I come aware
Of tragedies, of people’s cares —
That lead some people to despair.
Evil spreads, or so it seems,
Yet parallel, a good perceived —
Incomprehensible battle screams.
And then He said, “Take up your cross,”
“With Me,” He said, “Must count the cost.”
“Without the cross you will be lost.”
I learn to hear His voice each day,
And trust He’s with me in the fray,
And good, o’er evil, wins the day.
A poet wrote that ships must go
Upon the rough or glassy sea —
Not for the harbor always meant,
Not always safe a ship can be.
The times of calm — they do not last;
The tensions slowly build.
The heat, the cold, the rising wind,
The air with turmoil filled.
And so, in life, do not expect
Peace, tranquility, forever calm.
A balancing, a reckoning,
Is necessary as the dawn.
A storm in life, between two souls,
Can happen, just to clear the air.
Imperfect people, inevitably,
Will find they can’t always agree.
So do not ask for constant calm,
Nor constant storm, if that’s your joy,
But grace to bear whate’er may come —
The heat, the cold, and sometimes storm.
clarakatalin 