Writing poetry again

     The poems I am sharing here are not directly a part of my and Anneke's story, but they belong here for a couple of reasons. First, because she has inspired me to write again, and this is the fruit of that effort, and then because Anneke inspired me to believe in things greater than myself. She showed me a face of faith that was real; hers is honest, humble. subtle, yet strong - she has never recruited, preached, judged, or proclaimed her God as necessary for anyone other than for herself. So when I think of the factors that inspired me to even consider exploring faith for myself, I think of Anneke. And when I struggle to forgive myself or others, I think of her example. And so these two poems belong here, because they would not have been written without the influence she's had on my life.

Encore

The service had been moving
enough,
But something held the congregation
to their pews

And in the inhalation
of anticipation,
came this reward:

Carolyn, seated at the grand piano,
her slim, stately back
a pillar
in the community,

and then beside her,

Russell slid onto the bench -
a towering, larger-than-life force
that fit perfectly.

When the first note from the piano was released,
so was everyone’s breath;

and as they played,

shoulders relaxed,
arms rested against the backs of pews,
and eyes and hearts reached out.

There, at their altar,
was their perfect offering:
music, harmony, and love –
just two bodies
in one church,

reminding everyone present
what partnership looks like.

The explosive applause startled them,
and their
blushing,
giddy smiles

confirmed
that they had been caught in an act of love.


With Love

When I look at the gorgeous woman across my table, 
this is what I see:

She is 
elegant,
glamourous, 
sophisticated, 
immaculate, 
confident,
controlled -
perfectly put together - 

she never comes apart

 - except in those moments 
in which I recognize myself -

those moments when someone
scratches at the flawless surface

to expose the beautiful imperfections underneath

too much approval
has cost us
our entire capacity for disapproval, 

so there shall be no:

spilt milk, 
spoiled supper, 
cracked nail colour, 
childish children, 
delays, detours, 
or
failure:

a place for everything, 
and everything in its place - 

but where did we put our freedom?