Lift (For My Son)

And this, my very heart,

is the weight of water

like blood

bending the blooms,

smoke and mist graying tulips,

ash on butterflies’ wings.

My very heart! We bury

our dead selves

swollen but dry,

and in this come alive—the lift

in rain

and rain and rain again.

My very heart, see!

Instead of the weight, the gray, the ash—

the bloom,

the color,

the wings.

© 2020 Jennifer Wagner

(easter) it's about a king

it’s about a king

who came to serve us

to establish his kingdom

here on earth

a king who washed feet,

healed lepers, healed hearts

he died

for this: to bring love,

joy, peace, patience,

kindness

goodness, faithfulness

gentleness

self-control

a kingdom not of this world

from starry night

to stone rolled away

the day

he came

to seek and to save

© 2020 jennifer wagner

The hope of Easter to me is this:  He loves us, though the world under our stewardship is in turmoil.  God has a plan: His love poured out in our hearts.  His ultimate will will succeed.  If you are in doubt, take heart.  He loves you, and it’s you He doesn’t want to live without.

Romans 5

Florence

By the window,

lapping up the sun,

I read Rossetti’s, “The First Spring Day,”

and leaned my head against the pane

as if to become one

with blush blossoms

sprouting from the tree

and our neighbor’s sign

in bright yellow, pink and green:  hello spring.

Spring:  Florence Nightingale’s

cool kiss on the fevered brow of humanity.

Oh blow, swing your lamp—

your breath, meadowsweet,

your step, light, in our cimmerian war.

© 2020 Jennifer Wagner

dverse poetics:  in the time of the plague

Hope you all are well.  ~Love, Jen

“The First Spring Day” by Christina Rossetti