Poems, like prayer flags

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This week I was reminded that not all is good, and not all is good for me. I want to un-see what I saw, erase forever the images that popped up on my computer screen immediately after an opera video I was watching on Youtube. No warning, and there it was, cruel, shocking, and cutting through my soul like a knife. I didn’t know what to do. I gasped. I turned it off. But my mind played the images over and over again. I was hooked into darkness for a time.

And then, serendipitously and providentially, I was invited into a soul healing activity that is beginning to help me forget what I saw, not that I saw it, but take the edge of pain of it away.

A friend invited me to join a social media love challenge, posting only good messages. I’ve always tried to be that kind of person, but this week I’m being more intentional.

And then yesterday, as I sat alone on my porch on Canada Day and began to feel a little sad about that, I read this,

…become more conscious of the ways everyday acts and objects are inherently sacred when performed and regarded with intention. When we focus on whatever we are doing, we discover that God is in the midst of our work.

The Artist’s Rule, by Christine Valters Paintner

And then, maybe because of my soul pain and somewhat forced solitude, my heart turned to the thought of hanging up some poems, like little flags, like little prayers, and joining others in their space of being, for a time. Silently walking in their midst and offering my small blessings to them all. So I went, and I pinned PUP around the busy and quiet spaces, and I felt new life welling up in me. I didn’t feel so alone. I didn’t feel so dark and cut off. I performed a sacred act, just as the person who finds a poem will perform the sacred act of reading.

And I thank you God for showing me another way of you in the midst, of everything.

Rotary Centre, Kelowna

Rotary Centre, Kelowna

Random PUP photos, found on my phone

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A reminder that I really am really out there, even a little more than I remember. I’m out there with illumination installs in the dark of December, development commentary for the land behind our home, poetry tucked into library books, little lights and poems for my neighbours, and various installations in public places including readings.

Reminds me it’s time to get out there again.

This little light of mine…

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DSC_0001 DSC_0011 DSC_0014So be it, at approximately 4:30 pm yesterday, I embarked on my first illumination installation. A little paper lantern and inside a battery operated tea light turned on, some additional tea lights noted with, “be the light,” and “shine on,” my poem, “The Properties of Light,” and a candy cane, suspended from the trees and porches of my neighbours.

I came home aired out and rosy cheeked and with a giddy feeling of having done something, while only a few hours earlier I was questioning the validity and integrity of my initiative (feeling rather dark in the beginnings of this winter season, feeling rather inadequate). Then I was reminded of a tiny verse that is fixed to the front of my fridge with a magnet, “Go in the strength you have.” Joshua 6:11. So, deep breath, small prayer, winter coat, cozy scarf, flipping stomach, I went out. I hung lanterns. I took photos. I saw the lights twinkle in the dark. And that was enough.

City Light Kelowna, and something inside me flames.

SDG, Lesley-Anne

poem 2

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Gutter weed

Gutter weed (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

Tomorrow morning

I will rise before the dog,
dig in the yard, celebrate
what is now and earthy.
I will plate the colour green in increments,
lemon lime, the shock of chartreuse, enough
to turn blood grass green with envy.
I will consider weeds, their uninvited flourish
without my tending, while
the hybrids, the proven winners,
need their hands held. Seems the weeds
are often stronger. Their tap roots deep
and thick, harder to dislodge. They find water
in drought, soil in cracked concrete.
You must admit
each dandelion gone to seed is lovely,
fertile head veiled and translucent,
entrusting all scattering
to an insistent breeze.

Lesley-Anne Evans, SDG 2013