carpe diem

this is written for the prompt carpe diem, first day of the April poem-a-day challenge on a new poetry site i found recently.  fingers crossed that i can make it through the month of assignments!  i haven't done very well at keeping up in the last couple of challenges, but, well, this poem addresses the issue in a way!

Carpe Diem

I Thessalonians 5:21 Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.

I love the idea of working outdoors

more than the actual sweat and strain.

Still, a spring day beautiful as this
can lure even a reluctant gardener
to jab fingers into moist earth,
to imagine for a few hours I could
root out the weeds; could make this
tiny remnant of Eden bloom.

Grubbing through shoots

I try to remember, or divine,
which are interlopers,
which desired species.
Easiest is to clear them all,
start from scratch – every year
an amateur's new beginning.
What I grow best is hope.

Becky Haigler

April 2012

continuing in hope

I was in an AlAnon meeting last week where the speaker shared on the second step of the famous twelve, about believing that God could help in a situation where we are powerless. I appreciate the way the twelve step literature often reminds us that God is with us, not distant or unavailable. My “Higher Power” is the God of the Bible — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — and one of the names for Jesus is “Emmanuel,” meaning “God with us.”

In response to the speaker, another member mentioned an acronym that may be quite common in step groups but was new to me. She said HOPE is “Hurdling Over Painful Experience.” That didn’t resonate with me. I’d love to “hurdle over” some of my recent experiences but it seems I’m having to walk through them in slow motion — two steps forward and one step back, or the reverse! So I needed another phrase.

I decided that HOPE is “Holding On to Precious Emmanuel.” Even through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I don’t have to be afraid, for He is with me. That’s my source of hope, and Jesus is the One who keeps me sane!

Here’s an old poem on the subject.

Esperance

(from the French: hope)

mourning dove’s nest

a blot in the wind-whipped branches

of a leafless mulberry in March

steadfast through three days of cold rain

back to the east wind ruffling her feathers

she holds on for her life

and the life of her little ones

holding on without assurance

of the storm’s end

holding on

holding on without knowing

whether she can keep them

warm enough to break out

fed enough to fly

holding on because the alternative

is shattered eggshells

Becky Haigler

(This poem first appeared in Capper’s, March 2001.)