To view daily devotions from "Day by Day" by Forward Movement Publications, click here Http://forwardmovement.org/todaysreading.cfm
This is a new edition to our website - Spiritual Poetry for Reflection. We will be continually adding to this collection of poems by local poems. If you would like to make a submission or are particularly moved by a poem, please let me know so I can respond and pass along your reflections to our poets. Joan Beilstein, Rector, at revjeb@comcast.net. Enjoy!
SOUL PLACE
Is it a place, or rather,
a state of being that I visit,
or that comes to visit me,
like the winding path through the park
that beckons me on a journey in the dead of winter?
As I cycle around another bend,
I find it is familiar, yet it has changed:
barren trees etch their outlines against the grey, sultry sky.
Last year’s dried leaves decompose into rich, black soil.
The frigid, turbulent creek flows rapidly,
tumbles over rocks and disappears under bridges.
Discarded plastic bags snag on branches
and ripple wildly like torn, old flags.
Colorful playgrounds lie still and empty.
The occasional bundled jogger hurries past.
The wind flirts with my reddening cheeks.
The cold nips at my teeth like an eager puppy.
The harsh season’s paintbrush has altered the landscape,
yet the path beckons me to explore its canvas,
to leave behind the hecticness of the day,
to grasp my pen, and to paint in words
the depth of the new found soul place
that calls and leads me back home.
© Peggy Grosswiler
2/14/08
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GOING FISHING
My soul is weary.
I must escape the empty chatter,
the noisy streets.
There is no rhythm to my life.
I need the rhythm of the pounding surf.
Rising with the dawn to awaken my soul.
Hearing the word of God in the whispering winds,
hearing the strength and constancy of God,
as the waves strike the shore.
Again and again.
To see creation without end,
as the sea stretches to the horizon.
My prayers of thanksgiving rise
with the ever changing clouds.
Each cloud is unique and yet
they come together in community
To shade the lonely sun burned traveler,
or quench the thirst of the earth.
In my solitude I wonder.
Did I come to fish or to praise?
Pat Lusk
5/2008
