Long

We had an open house
And invited people to come
Any time during a ten hour stretch.
We had guests, in the end, for
Nine and a half,
And the longest two stayed
About eight.

My friend said, long ago,
That Americans throw
Three hour parties.

If we ever have a three hour party again,
I think I will feel like
A non-event!

But with a canvas of almost ten,
There is time to connect
With almost all who come.

Correction

A friend said,
“Sometimes when I speak,
The other person seems to be listening
Solely to correct me.”

This can’t be good for relationship.

Applause

Caleb drank from a guest’s glass,
Then waved both arms in the air,
Enthusiastically.
His brothers did the same.
Caleb laughed, and brothers laughed,
And all arms waved again,
Until the room rang with the laughter
Of five sons and guest.

I remain torn, though,
On good parenting in that situation.
Enjoy the camaraderie and ebullience?
Or gently correct for showing off?
What is more important?
The mirth or the self-centeredness?

No Idea

At 18, I listened to Celine Dion
Belt out, “Don’t want to live
All by myself anymore,”
And I confessed to my Mom that
I felt that.

“Oh, whatever,” she said,

Which may seem ungracious,
But was a bracing reminder
That my sentiment was
Premature.

I have friends now
Who have lived that song
For a decade.
For two.

I felt what they felt for a single day
And felt defeated.

I, too, say to my young self,
“Oh, whatever.
You have
No
Idea.”

In Translation

Poetry in translation
Is notoriously inaccurate.
How could something of
Rhyme and rhythm
Ambiguity and consonance
Ever be recaptured beyond a shadow?

How much is lost.

And yet.

I will not learn Italian,
Yet I have walked with Dante.

I will not learn Greek,
Yet I have triumphed with Odysseus.

How much is gained.

Though He Slay Me

When last I prayed in earnest,
I wondered if I might die,
The physical presence
Of the Holy Spirit
Was so intense.

Like I was a straw, trying to
Channel
An outpouring of a fire hose.
Impossible.

My friend said, though,
That next time, I will remember
That I didn’t die,
And be at peace
With the intensity.

It is not my imperfection
That I am but a straw.

Fresh Insight

I know that when my house seems
An absolute disaster
Just hours before a party,
To be prepared for glory,
As the greater opposition
Foreshadows the greater joy.

I had never connected that, though,
With prayer.

A friend said:
When I go down to pray,
And feel nothing,
I wonder what is actually happening
In the heavenlies.

The lack of felt response
Might show
That those prayers are the most needed
And the most powerful.