I am now worthless because of your generosity.

Hey Alabama. I drove through
you half my life ago. You were
most green and gracious. Blue
skies foamed clouds supine on
my skin. A thin veil of fog an
unseen future away.

I slowly crossed your planet,
picked flowers on the verge.
I remember the heat. The red
hair of summer curled against
the day. Nights vibrated, a gong
gone mild. Soft, resonating, still
resonating. I breathed air in
like smoke, holding it inside
for long seconds, a question
waiting for its answer.

Long years have veined miles,
mapped time. I am blued with
thinking of it.

Hey Alabama.
I remember. Your highways
still, so sweet. You travel
soft as sleep.


June 11, 2000 rc

I talked with my parents this morning (they’re in a time zone that’s 6 hours ahead). I’ll be off, back to school, before they get back. They sound very tired, certainly tireder than they did a month ago.

They’re working with “Doctors Without Borders” somewhere in Poland. We have a fiction between us, that they haven’t been in a war zone for the last couple of months, spending 16 (18?) hours a day, in ineffable, meatball surgery - sewing pieces of people back together.

Although our conversation topics are no more important than soap bubbles, they evoke a kaleidoscope of emotions (in me), our mutual deceptions as fragile as eggshells.

Time is for tides
And boating lake rides
It’s for boiling your eggs
And the swimming pool regs.
Time is spent in detention
Or paying attention
Or sitting a test
Or having a rest
Time is for departing
Not for outsmarting
A pie shaped chart
With nothing to impart
A dish served cold
That chimes when your old
It scrawls lines on your face
And flutters the flag
At the end of the race
But the best of time
Is when it’s all mine
No pressure on the day
No programme to display
No seconds tick away
No words left to say
A smile paints my face
The sun warms my skin
My mind’s lost in space
My heart’s deep within
A Disney ride
With three kids in my care
Bristling with pride
The wind in my hair
And come the time
When I’m
Just a thought
Caught in your throat
That’s how to think of me
Because that’s where I’ll be.

SE

“How foolish you are, and how slow of heart
to believe what the prophets have spoken!
Didn’t Christ have to suffer [be broken],
then enter His glory [new life to impart]?”
Can you hear these words Christ spoke Easter Day
as He journeyed (resurrected!) with two
who had not yet grasped God’s Covenant view
that Jesus’ shed blood is Hope’s ONLY way?
From Genesis on, God painted pictures
pointing us straight to the cross of His Son
in shadows and types through Providence done—
Jesus fulfills the weight of these Scriptures!
So come, invite Him in! As those two learned,
He’ll teach you, open eyes, cause heart to burn!

He
has to
drink
his
meals.
So, I
drink
mine
to.

I have
to
drown
his cells
in
nutrients.

I'm
trying
to
keep
someone
alive.

Tara grew up, planted
Firm in the loam
Like that southern plantation
A farm was her home

She shot up like a sapling
She swayed with the breeze
Wind scented with lilac
And magnolia trees.

Around her the horses
Needed nurturing care
Then they needed exercise
Tara was there.

Now a physical therapist
She helps folks along
When they are feeble
She helps them to be strong.

That's how I met you
It is to this end.
I need to be strengthend
I'm glad you're my friend!


💜 Cathy