Precious Poetry

My Uncertainty

I CAN'T SAY I'M AN ATHEIST…

BECAUSE

EVEN THOUGH I DON'T EMBRACE MOST

OF WHAT THEISTS EMBRACE

I STILL CAN'T LET GO OF…

MY UNCERTAINTY

Poet's Note: It's May 21, 22 and this thought was in my head. Sometimes it doesn't look like a poem. Maybe it is just a thought, but not all poems are long drawn out lyrics. Sometimes the smallest thought can be the greatest of poems.

When I saw the picture it attracted me to what I was really trying to convey. I can declare this message with the most peaceful, content and biggest smile there is. I hold on to my doubts, not as a valued possession, but as a close friend. I hug my uncertainty like it will be my companion for the rest of my life.

I don't think I need to land anywhere.... on religion or on science. Maybe it is like being suspended between the diving board and the water, but that is where I am and, right now, I'm okay with that.

I am a truck

I was created in a factory in Michigan

I have been in existence for over a decade

In all that time no one required me to change the colour of my paint

No one said I was to big or too little

No one told me I should have had leather seats instead of cloth

No one replaced my engine because it wasn’t powerful enough

No one asked of me anything more that what I was built to perform

I have fulfilled my purpose by carrying a person from one place to another

I am a truck

I am not a human body

Humans are not content with the paint they received at the factory

Humans are not happy with their size

Humans are not satisfied with their interiors or their engines

It seems that humans are in a constant process of changing their body

Maybe they forgot the purpose of the body was to carry their person from one place to another

I am a truck

I could care less what other trucks look like

Their paint, body size, seats, and engine don’t change my purpose

I am created to carry a person from one place to another

Nothing more

Nothing less

I am a truck

Poet's Note: Written May 7, 2022, 1:17 am... when my body should have been sleeping. My head was spinning this early morning trying to wrap my thoughts around my own paint job and the paint job of others. I tried to process my need for an engine change when the engine I have works fine. I tried to understand why leather seats were more desirable than cloth seats. Why is my interior not enough? What is my purpose? What is this body's purpose? Is it not simply to carry me from one place to another?

This analogy may only apply to one 2011 Ford Escape that is parked in my yard at this very moment, awaiting the next opportunity to carry me from "one place to another". Other trucks don't have what my truck has… only purpose. Other trucks have been modified to please their human. Other trucks understand what humans are like. But my truck sees all that as nonsense. My truck can't understand why paint colour matters, why tire size matters, why engine performance matters. My truck is more enlightened that I am. My truck understands life more than I do. My truck could teach the world a great lesson.

Naomi

Maybe

I'm not the one to lose my tears

Maybe

I am the one to say it's time

Maybe

I'm the one that is right

Pain

How much do I bear

Life

When do I let go

Love

What if it's not strong enough to keep me here

How

Do I apologize to the ones I love

How

Do I ease their pain

How

Could I have done this to them

Maybe

I didn't think about them

Maybe

I couldn't think about them

Maybe

I just did it.

Poet's Note: April 30,22 ... Naomi Judd's life ended. I am sad today.

"Today we sisters experienced a tragedy. We lost our beautiful mother to the disease of mental illness. We are shattered, We are navigating profound grief and know that as we loved her, she was loved by her public, We are in unknown territory." Ashley Judd

I don't blame Naomi. How can I blame her? I am sad, but I understand her.

Who is Naomi to me... but a reminder of what is possible for me down the road. There are others who are in pain. There tears matter. Their bleeding hearts matter... They are the ones who lost.

Wynonna, Ashley, Larry... to name three who are in pain, trying to navigate life now without Naomi. What moved me so much was that Naomi took her life the day before her and Wynonna would accept the honour of being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Wynonna and Ashley stood on the stage together as Wynonna accepted an honour that was to be shared with her mother.

What will Mother's Day be like for Wynonna and Ashley. My heart goes out to them both. This was not the journey they signed up for.

Beautiful Bernice

love filled mother

Beautiful Bernice

adoring grandmother

Beautiful Bernice

treasured friend

Beautiful Hands

tickle the ivory

Beautiful Hands

caress my face

Beautiful Hands

pray for me

Beautiful Face

smile for me

Beautiful Face

countenance of joy

Beautiful Face

let me take your picture

Beautiful Voice

sing to me

Beautiful Voice

calm my fears

Beautiful Voice

whisper hope

Beautiful Heart

i miss you so much

Beautiful Heart

i remember

Beautiful Heart

your love remains

Poet's Note: Written April 20/21 2022. For Mama Bernice.

Ruby's Memorial Tribute Video to Mama Bernice

Love Never Breathed

When Love is all I have left

Will I be okay

When I bury the rest

In a grave today

I can’t kill Love

It doesn’t die

It never breathed

Like him and I

Love gave the breath

That gives me the chance

To walk, to sing

To write, to dance

So today I place

In a dirty hole

That which died

A long time ago

And Love remains

Eternally

It doesn’t die

Because it never breathed

Poet's Note: Written today... April 15, 2022... Good Friday. Today marks the end of the "Atheism for Lent" course. Today will be the end of something very significant in my life. As I ceremoniously bury it beneath the budding lilac bushes, may I find something blooming soon amid in the fresh lavender coloured blossoms. May I find Love still remaining.

Already I found Love showing up this morning in a beautiful white blanket of snow. It was calm, peaceful and I will be okay.

The River of the Unknown

"I don't know" doesn't mean that I can't imagine

"I don't know" doesn't mean that I don't have any idea of what might be

"I don't know" doesn't mean that I can't interpret life with understanding

"I don't know" doesn't mean I am clueless

"I don't know" means I gave up certainty

"I don't know" means that my love for others is more important than me being right

"I don't know" means I am small, not weak

"I don't know" means there are more important things to do with my time

"I don't know" doesn't mean I can't believe

"I don't know" doesn't mean that I can't trust

"I don't know" doesn't mean that I can't hope

"I don't know" doesn't mean that I can't wonder

"I don't know" means I am human

"I don't know" means I am limited

"I don't know" means questions are more important than answers

"I don't know"… means "I don't know"

Poet's Note: Written April 7, 2022

I am not a big fan of labels, because most of them don't define me well. I don't think I can be narrowed down well to label. Especially a label that needs to encompass a lot more people than just me. But there is one label, I don't really mind, because of what it means. Agnostic simply means "I don't know". But even that needs expounding on, so this is what I mean by these three little words that, for me, explain so much.

I used to think everyone was Agnostic, just a mix of aware Agnostics and unaware Agnostics. But I have since learned that certainty is a feeling not a state of existence. So if some one feels 100% certain, how can I call them Agnostic. Maybe in reality they don't know, but if they feel certain they know, how can I take that away from them. So I will let others swim in their ocean of certainty if that is what they want to do, but I will drown in those waters, so I will swim elsewhere. I will swim in the river of the unknown and in those waters, I will be free.

Breath and Love

Creator of the Cosmos

Nameless One

Breath of the Universe

Somehow the Sun shines

The Rain comes

And the Garden grows

And I find gratitude

in the Core of my Being

Strength on my Journey

Companion in my Struggles

Present in Wind

In the Birds

In my Cats

In every Molecule of Nature

Not Above or Below

but Around

In and Through.

I don't ask that my Pain be removed

I don't ask that my Loss be returned

I don't ask for that which I haven't worked for

I don't ask

I only Breathe and Love and find You.

Poet's Note: Written April 1, 2022

Today of all days I write this. I wonder if I was the fool for understanding less than this. For understanding a God as only a dude. For embracing a God as a vending machine. For thinking that as a human being, I am superior to the other organic lifeforms that contain all the presence of the Creator.

My choice of a bull thistle for this picture is one of an expression of unwanted torturous beauty.

Reticence

I understand

the value of mining

the gold in me

but what pure purpose is there

to convince anyone else

of that internal treasure

If there is indeed

worth on the inside

that which needs to be known

by anyone but me

then

let it ooze

from the cracks of my fortress

in the oil of my character

not from the hole

in the middle of my face

Poet's Note: Written March 10, 2022. This was just a thought in my head that needed a place outside my head to live. So I turned it into a poem.

Reticence, a restraint of sorts, is something that dwells beyond my ego. I don't even know if I long for this as much as I think it is wise. It makes sense to me that all humankind would mine to the depths of their own soul, and cease the pursuit of gathering a following for any cause.

Oh that the only things that would ooze out of us is character wrapped in Love.