Thursday, September 14, 2017


Not sure if it qualifies, but the following looks like a "prose poem."  It's a shortened version of a longer story and not with lines or stanzas as in regular poetry.  My story is not without sin and suffering, but somehow the light usually shines through.


As I walked out of divorce court in 1992 I had a stone in my heart. My son and I walked down the street together, saw a book store and ambled in. Down close to the floor a title stood out to me:  May I Have This Dance?   It was written by a nun, Joyce Rupp.  She begins with a poem:   “But just when the old heap of bones seems most dry and deserted, a strong Breath of Life stirs among my dead.   Someone named God comes to my fragments and asks, with twinkling eye:  ‘May I have this dance?’” I bought the book and wrote for the next decade all over the front page reminding God of His question.  I didn’t have any idea on that day where all this was heading, but as a matter of fact it was there in my other hand.  Something about a woman in a clerical collar caught my eye (and my heart), and I bought the book by an Episcopal female priest.  God led me to theological school and to England where I preached in chapels on the Isle of Wight and one year (from a very high pulpit) on the mainland.  Later, I was able to visit the Holy Land where I fell in love with Jesus all over again (and maybe had a crush on our Jewish guide). I mean, it has been an adventure.  Now I am writing poems, some of them back to God.  After all, it was He who asked me to dance.

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