No Comfort

There is a time to speak 

and a time to be silent 

It doesn’t say who gets to do which

You must walk with grief in your own way

 

Life goes on – oblivious, a garish carnival

in the night, northern lights blaze 

with the audacity of a motivational speaker

A moment of silence is never enough

 

It’s a rare blessing to hear healing words

Perhaps from one, rarely do two speak them

these are the most difficult words to find

even by those who care the most

 

The mind is like a crash on the Tour de France

The tongue, stupidly frozen to the flag pole

A gorilla fist clenches mid-torso and twists

say something, say nothing – wrong both ways

 

There are no right words for this

It is a time to mourn

for a time, then there is a time

to find those who help us live.

Joyce (Harback) Rempel 

October 1, 2012

Soldier On

Well-fitted armor

the shield of faith

helmet of salvation

and all the rest

not heavy 

Most days it buoys

helps me stand

protects in battle

makes progress 

possible

But there are days

when from behind

an arrow of sadness

released 

long past

flies

from a comrade's bow

strikes soft flesh

an unarmored part

a chink exposed

A strike

in defence or offence

I do not know 

for I thought we battled

the same enemy

the wound is mine

it is not fatal

and a prize awaits

for those who overcome

so I press on

March 3, 2014

Photo by Anna Saveleva on Unsplash

 

Flow

Dear Lord,

Today, please grant me the patience
and courage to sit with the experiences
I would rather rush past.

To linger and learn from dark memories.
To see the best in the worst.
To be fearfully and wonderfully mad, glad, sad.

To drag the saturation filter up
on my life-processing program.
Let it all pop.

To be a person of rich text
and infinite spectrum of colour
in a bleached-out, faded world.

To flow richer, fuller, more.
To be your kingdom come.
Amen.





With deepest thanks to Henry Rempel, Cheryl Miller, Joshua Gorenflo, Bethany Bassett, Kelly @ Love Well and John Blase who, by their conversations, lit these fireworks of daily prayer one hot day in August 2014.

Photo mine: “Inflow” by Jay Bigam (oil), Spring 2018 exhibition, Akokiniskiway Gallery, Rosebud, Alberta

Be

Be kind
Be safe
Be neat
Be true

Pretty much covers it all.




Photo: personal collection, text added via WordSwag

To Be

To be

Love comes first
like a mirror
the more he shows me
who I am
the more I see
who he is
and when I look
in the mirror and see
him beside me
he is what I want
who I want
where I want no more

Inspired by 2 Corinthians 3:16-18




Photo: Personal collection, text edit on Wordswag

Gifts

Yellow flowers
grow quiet
by the highway,
lifting faces to God
while most drivers
rush blindly on.

Messenger of Death

Disregard his whispered threats
fear-inducing innuendo
Ignore his lies, only God decides
the time, the place.

Deny his power,
he has none, this messenger
only comes at divine appointment
when Heaven is longing for you.





Photo: personal collection, Cascade Mountain, Banff National Park

I Believe

 

I believe

the artist I wish to be

will surface

from under the pressure

as a diamond;

sparkling light to shine

in the dark, coal-stained

caverns of other trapped miners...

and we shall all rise, bright

shining as the sun, completing

the work we've begun.

~Joyce E. Rempel

Photo by Ivana Cajina on Unsplash

Last Gasp

Last Gasp

A weary walk
through a frozen world
raging fire behind the eyes
face stung by tearing wind
winter's last gasp cast

Tomorrow I rise
above this clay
Burst into bloom

~Joyce E. Rempel

Warm Westerly

Chinook arch is strong today,
lingers long across the sky.
Southeast to northwest the way
clouds bow and stretch from side to side.

The western wind warms all below.
Changes temps to balmy height,
releases streams of melting snow,
elates the heart and brings delight.

Beware if it should make landfall--
where you stand becomes a fright.
At a hundred clicks or more, the squall
will tumble all within its might.

Fast it’s gone and birds can rest
on the branch tips without fear;
sing their songs and build their nest
as sky returns to blue and clear.

​Photos: from my back deck on this date

Sometimes

Having a dog roots me.
Sometimes
like feet in gumbo
the suction so strong
if I walk
my foot slides out
of the stuck rubber boot
and lands splat
back in terra muck

Having a dog roots me
Sometimes
like the strength
of hundred year oaks
made patient by the grasp
of ancient acorn
reaching through its leathery shell
for life and the love of dirt

Or like the extendable leash
keeping us connected
Hard to tell who’s walking whom
but the red woven strap
gives and takes
keeps us both secure, entwined
Together

She roots through blankets,
garbage, and my heart.
Sometimes
she blankets my heart
and roots out the garbage.

Having a dog roots me
Sometimes
I circle three times
before sighing to sleep
Letting go of
the leash
the muck
the grasping