it happened one sunday.

well, i challenged myself to submit to a contest even though i didn't have much time to refine (only a few hours to edit four poems); and the first contest i submitted to, a novice poetry contest in canada, i received an honorable mention. i have a lot of work to go, and i need to learn the patience and skill of going back and editing and refining the poem. i still see some things i want to change, but here is the poem that is bringin' home the bacon:

An Exploration of Caritas

She tries the known and unknown tongue,
clashing and clanging;
it sounds like dissonance;
she, standing on the corner soapbox
screaming love,
echoing imperfection.

Knowledge past and future
beats at his soul;
released left and right
the words flow like a torrent,
drowning love,
like an authentic counterfeit.

She cut her hair,
he sold his watch;
they gave it all away
for empty pockets
and bottomless cups;

So she chose the burning building,
and he ran in to save the cat on the third floor;
they became food for worms—
"meaningless, meaningless," blazed
the scorching disco ball.

Fresh breezes renew what once was,
evanescence removes the blotted cloth
and love's voice is heard again;
ashes swirl
and the clay molded;
he is made new,
she is made new.

He offers her his watch, she combs his hair;
a honeysuckle vine guards and sweetens their bed
under the great ancient oak—

love never promised rosebushes daily blooming,
but promised long suffering;
charity did not offer velvet cushions
but offered the cool spring of kindness;
unconditional love did not vow golden crowns
but vowed humility and grace.

Thistles and thorn bushes he bore
to save the snowdrops planted
in the scorching heat;
she gave the keys and her pearls to his able hand;
they ran a marathon through a sea of broken bottles
with the horizon setting in their eyes;
they held a ticker tape parade
in honor of words that withstood the fire.

Through a glass, darkly;
an impoverished reflection,
skinny and malnourished,
the picture is not whole but
dimly shaded,
corners darkened gray;
our view is poorly framed—
someday soon
perfect love will no longer cast shadows
and we will see face to face.

Copyright ©2010 by Micah McDonald

breathing lessons

it's the time of year for me when everything is so, so busy. my job load increases with an upcoming gala and silent auction on top of my regular work. we're still in the throws of the honeymoon phase of the marriage. but there's health issues that have slowed me down considerably. and then there's the friend who is still hurting and it weighs on my heart. and then there's not having energy for the daily things... like laundry and cooking and writing.


last night i could not fall asleep thinking about too many things. my husband. our future. the gala. my friend. my health. i started praying, passionately. i was worked up and frustrated while i prayed, asking God to intervene in the difficult situations. and then i realized something i have encouraged for others but wasn't practicing myself; sometimes you have to put aside your worries, your health, your petitions to look and see how lovely and mighty and kind and good God is. I turned to Psalm 33 and saw. my God is so much more than these little things.

Shout for joy in the Lord, O you righteous!
Praise befits the upright.
Give thanks to the Lord with the lyre;
make melody to him with the harp of ten strings!

Sing to him a new song;
play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.

For the word of the Lord is upright,
and all his work is done in faithfulness.
He loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.

By the word of the Lord the heavens were made,
and by the breath of his mouth all their host.
He gathers the waters of the sea as a heap;
he puts the deeps in storehouses.

Let all the earth fear the Lord;
let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him!
For he spoke, and it came to be;
he commanded, and it stood firm.

The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing;
he frustrates the plans of the peoples.

The counsel of the Lord stands forever,
the plans of his heart to all generations.
Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,
the people whom he has chosen as his heritage!

The Lord looks down from heaven;
he sees all the children of man;
from where he sits enthroned he looks out
on all the inhabitants of the earth,

he who fashions the hearts of them all
and observes all their deeds.
The king is not saved by his great army;
a warrior is not delivered by his great strength.

The war horse is a false hope for salvation,
and by its great might it cannot rescue.

Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him,
on those who hope in his steadfast love,

that he may deliver their soul from death
and keep them alive in famine.

Our soul waits for the Lord;
he is our help and our shield.

For our heart is glad in him,
because we trust in his holy name.

Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us,
even as we hope in you.