In Visible She
(Edmonton Poetry Festival 2015--Honorable Mention Award)
In early morning darkness,
curls fetal for warmth inside
the bus stop shelter,
not on the frozen bench, the bench
is for those worthy,
but on the cold concrete.
In early morning light,
embarrassed eyes seeking distraction
from hunger angst,
gently picks gravel fragments, sifts them
through stiffened fingers,
to fall on the cold concrete.
In mid-morning warming light,
with face of courage and
eyes of hope,
enters the shelter, places coffee
hot and biscuit warm,
on the gravel, the cold concrete.
Two souls now in, visible.
You emptied Yourself
rifting the universal
choosing a time-
dependent human form
to crack the time-
"Believe me. Follow me," You said.
"And I will give you life
Opening paragraph of her novel,
“No-o-o-o.” The cry cut through the heavy air, the moonless night. Awakened by her own voice, Lwin tried to lie quietly on her rattan mat, not wanting to wake her mother or little brother, but she could not control her body’s trembling. Fear—her night-time “friend.” She knew it well. It filled her dreams, lately in the form of her father, the man whom they had fled from when she was seven. That was five years ago, and yet in her dreams, his presence crossed time and space. She saw him, she felt him, she even smelled him. Her body shuddered. Lwin knew she had to switch her thoughts. She forced herself to breathe deeply and exhale slowly, a relaxing technique she had learned from her grandfather. Her grandfather. That’s who she could think about. And her grandmother. It was to their home, their Shatikha village, that they fled—far away from Yangon and her father, far away even from Mytkin. Lwin hoped it was far enough, but if her recent dreams were any indication, she had her doubts.
Doug's Poem 1:
God's World and Word (1995)
God's creative energy,
Undisclosed to naked eye.
Mystery for DNA to impute
Microscopic uniqueness, you and I.
God's creative energy, expansive
Too great for naked eye.
That creatures pensive
Fathom star and nebulae.
God's Redemptive energy, compelling
History, writers, thinkers, preachers.
Culture and language house the telling
Written Word, God, Christ, and creatures.
God's wonder revealed
Book one: the world around us.
God's purpose congealed
Book two: the Word astounds us.
Doug's Poem 2:
(for mothers on Mothers Day 2005)
Sun gone. Night. Darkness. Quiet.
Little eyes closed for the night.
No pudgy feet banging on floors...
No thirsty, hungry cries. Needs satisfied...
For a night.
Games finished. Make-believe retires
To the subconscious.
Naive ones. Trusting. Learning. Watching. Following.
Molded by Mother even as they sleep.
Her thoughts, values, attitudes
Reach into their dreams.
Immortal She. Takes from Mother, years gone by,
Endows to daughters...
A continuum of caring, loving, nurturing.
Stretching into the dark night, the future.
A day special to honor this Immortal She?
Yes. Indeed, without Mother
Culture, language, being ceases to be.
Unlike the night which closes this day,
Into the past and future,