Teacher

Here's another poem from my recent school assignment - a short one this time.  Apparently this one made my professor laugh out loud. Details of the assignment and the first poem can be found here.

Teacher

The teacher,

                        answering none of my questions

unfolds for me

a whole new world of questions.

The Flame

Eight-and-a-half years ago, as I was driving around in my car listening to one of my CDs, I thought to myself, "If there is one person that I would like to see in concert more than any other musician, it is Leonard Cohen.  But that isn't going to happen because he is old and he doesn't tour."  When I got home that day and turned on my computer, a headline popped up that said, "Leonard Cohen Announces World Tour."

I had the opportunity to see him twice in concert - 2008 in Toronto and 2013 in Winnipeg; both memorable evenings.  Then yesterday evening, the news reached the world that Leonard Cohen had died.  I am thankful for everything that I have learned from Leonard Cohen.

This poem wasn't the next one I was planning to share; but in response to the events of the world this week - the US election results, the death of Leonard Cohen, and the death of one of my friends - here is my response.

(Information about the class assignment that this poem comes from can be found here.)

The Flame

Before the beginning, there was darkness

                                                    chaos

                                                    fear.

Then God said, “Let there be light.”

            And there was light.

A tiny flame

            flickering in the darkness

            flickering in the chaos

            flickering in the fear.

Shadows dancing.

What is hiding in those shadows?

The bard sings,

            “Magnified, sanctified / Be thy holy name.”

The bard sings,

            “Vilified, crucified / In the human frame.”

The bard sings,

            “We kill the flame.”[1]

Can we kill the flame?

Can our fear

        our chaos

        our darkness

                        overwhelm the light?

The light shines in the darkness

            and the darkness does not overcome it.

---

[1] Leonard Cohen, “You Want it Darker,” in You Want it Darker (Sony Music Entertainment, 2016), compact disc.

The Invitation

I spent the weekend writing an essay about the Eucharist, so I thought that I would share this poem today.

(Information about the class assignment that this poem comes from can be found here.)

The Invitation

Nailed to the tree

arms stretched wide

“This is my body, broken for you.”

Blood and water mingle

from wounded side

“This is my blood, poured out for you.”

Face contorted in pain

love was crucified

“Eat this bread and live forever.”

Embracing the world

arms stretched wide

“It is finished.”

Resurrection

Here's another poem from my recent class assignment.
(Information about the assignment as a whole, along with the first poem can be found here.)

Resurrection

The highway winds

            through northern Ontario bush

the hills still snow-covered

the lakes still frozen

the March landscape

            bearing scars of winter past.

Too soon for songbirds

too soon for flowers

too soon for unfurling leaves.

And yet.

And yet off on the distant hillside

the tree branches are thickening

            swelling in the sun’s new-found warmth

            engorged with life-giving sap

            proclaiming the resurrection to come.

Incarnation

One of my classes this term had an artistic component - we had to engage the question that Jesus asks of Peter in the gospels, "Who do you say that I am?" using whatever artistic medium we wanted.  I handed in a short collection of poetry presenting a variety of images for Jesus Christ, and came to the conclusion that "Jesus Christ is more than the sum of the metaphors."

I will be sharing some of these short poems on this blog over the next little bit.  Here is one of my favourites:

Incarnation

How many nights now?

            five?

            thirteen?

            eighty-three?

How long has it been since you slept?

            since I slept?

This red-faced screaming ball of humanity

            who has taken over my home

                                            my heart

                                            my life.

Why won’t you stop crying?

You aren’t hungry.

You aren’t wet.

You aren’t in pain.

Why can’t I soothe you?

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Where is your Owner’s Operating Manual?

Those angels and shepherds and magi,

            they were so eager to visit you

                        when you were born.

            Where are they now?

                        now that there are diapers to change.

                        now that there is laundry to do.

                        now that there are mouths to feed.

They sang of Peace on Earth.

How can there be Peace on Earth

            when there can’t even be

                        peace in this home?

Your tears are never going to end.

Let me just

            collapse in this chair

                        and share

                                    in your tears.