Your poems embody the "All Are Welcome" spirit of the Episcopal Church. The poetic tending of the church's garden is such a wholehearted and earthy way to pray.
Such love and respect for both the human and the leafy members of that parish -- and so grateful to be part of an "all are welcome" church. Thank you as always for reading and commenting, Ann.
I love both these poems, but especially the holy ground one. St. James is especially home to me too. At my home church in Maryland I am most proud that in 2003, when I was home with my Dad and found that the two huge old oaks in the churchyard had gone down in a storm the previous winter, I convinced a fellow parishioner to go with me into the woods and dig up two small oak trees and plant them where the old trees had been. This summer I was amazed to see that in 20 years the white oak is about 20 feet high and the black oak about 30. And since they are growing in the open, not the woods, they are spready, not narrow. It makes me feel wonderful to know that long after Ebenezer is no longer a church these trees will be guarding the church yard and the top of that hill. Holy ground.
I appreciate the accessibility of your writing. It's a bit like an open door into a church, easily accessed but the mysteries inside are still mysteries but at least you've shown me where some of them are. I would say that's a neat trick but I know it's not any kind of trick, it's just generous natured writing.
I will go on to say that, conversely, my least favorite writing is heavily convoluted, difficult to decipher the syntax, the references, and the treasure at the end is meager. The very simplest things in life are quite magical.
“Hide and Seek”
I’ve read this poem of your before and enjoyed it even more this time!
“Guilty of misdirection “
“Church Porch”
“Hallowed ground” and “it’s home”says it all.
That you can find solace and feel your spirituality more Deeply there is a true blessing
You are very blessed to have such a beautiful place to go home to.
My favorite line today is "in human-holy desperation'. Who among us has not been in that situation?
Thank you for sharing your gorgeous poems and the stories that go with them.
Thank you for being here to read the poems and stories, Donna.
Your poems embody the "All Are Welcome" spirit of the Episcopal Church. The poetic tending of the church's garden is such a wholehearted and earthy way to pray.
Such love and respect for both the human and the leafy members of that parish -- and so grateful to be part of an "all are welcome" church. Thank you as always for reading and commenting, Ann.
I surely miss that spot of Holy ground in the Richmond, and special friends like you. These poems brought up nice memories
We miss you back, Ms. Mary! You and Rafael and Lily are remembered often on our holy ground. ❤️
Lovely words, feelings, sittings on leaf covered bricks, yes.
So glad to have you reading these poems, jm!
I love both these poems, but especially the holy ground one. St. James is especially home to me too. At my home church in Maryland I am most proud that in 2003, when I was home with my Dad and found that the two huge old oaks in the churchyard had gone down in a storm the previous winter, I convinced a fellow parishioner to go with me into the woods and dig up two small oak trees and plant them where the old trees had been. This summer I was amazed to see that in 20 years the white oak is about 20 feet high and the black oak about 30. And since they are growing in the open, not the woods, they are spready, not narrow. It makes me feel wonderful to know that long after Ebenezer is no longer a church these trees will be guarding the church yard and the top of that hill. Holy ground.
Oh, I love this story, Rose! Bless the trees that guard us, and bless the planters of trees.
I appreciate the accessibility of your writing. It's a bit like an open door into a church, easily accessed but the mysteries inside are still mysteries but at least you've shown me where some of them are. I would say that's a neat trick but I know it's not any kind of trick, it's just generous natured writing.
I will go on to say that, conversely, my least favorite writing is heavily convoluted, difficult to decipher the syntax, the references, and the treasure at the end is meager. The very simplest things in life are quite magical.
Thank you, Weston. You and I are of similar mind about the value of open-door language.
What a beautiful holy home-place, Rosalie. Thank you for describing it for us.