Tag: poem

Missing You

  • Photo by Jane Tawel

*

Missing You

By Jane Tawel

April 19, 2023

*

As I sit here, trying to wake,

I’m still in shock that you are gone.

And all of you is gone,

and you and you and you are truly gone.

*

Oh, the missing of you is a beating stone,

a beating stone within my chest.

The tears still rise like foreign tides

moved by a grieving moon, adrift without her sun.

*

I hold the remembrances of you close to me,

clutching them like a tattered blanket, full of holes,

unable to use even your memories

 to keep me warm in these cold blistering times.

*

Each day I sleep-walk through the now,

the past, a figment tiptoeing just behind.

Until, at night, I lie in bed

and wrap myself in my arms,

imagining you are with me still,

as near as a whisper.

I let my pillow dry my tears

and wait in hope,

to dream of you.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2023

A Psalm of a Child’s Lament

by Jane Tawel

“Gallina con sus pollitos [Hen and her chicks] (Gallus gallus ♀ + pichones)” by barloventomagico is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

A Psalm of a Child’s Lament

By Jane Tawel

March 26, 2023

*

And as we look, under narrowed lidded eyes,

with hearts made heavy by hate and fear,

we fear that each of us, alone, or with our few,

 are helpless.

For fear and hate are the same thing,

and now, oh, heavy-hearted, helpless headed, I fear,

the whole world seems to want to de-evolve.

*

Nations look to gods whose time has passed.

People rage and flail against those who might have been a brother.

All come down upon the women who might have been mothers;

might have been if only someone cared for the babies they bore;

might have been if only their nurturing love had not so often

been raped

by those who think power

is a type of holy matrimony/patrimony/schmatrimony.

*

Incarnation has been a willing victim of climate-change.

*

And the Little One,

who asked to be birthed in every single one of us;

The Child still offers up His life to us and says,

“If you let the kind of God that lived in Me,

live in you,

the True You will be reborn.”

The Child looks at his barren womb, the World,

and weeping, cries,

“How I long to gather you to me,

as a mother hen gathers her little chicks.”

*

But without a peep, the world seems to give up.

Instead we fight battles against what we could change for good.

Instead we play foolish dangerous games,

trying to return to a past we never knew

because it never existed.

Nothing has ever existed outside our own good selves.

And having given up Goodness for false idols,

we don’t know what story to live.

*

And the world lets go of Truth and Love,

in the name of gods who don’t care 

about what we claim They created. 


 It would be silly if it weren’t so horribly sad.

*

And the human beings have given up

with a deafening roar of silent uncaring.

*

Our Creator weeping, turns away.

He can’t stand to look at us any more, in our pain, Her pain.

He can’t stand to see us picking at scabs,

that She has so often offered to heal.

For God never once imagined, that when He birthed us from His womb,

that we would think we were born to live in a Place elsewhere.

Why would a lovingly created creature,

hope to live again somewhere else?

Why long for somewhere “out there”, when

This Place, here, this Earth, these creations, these people,

were created in beauty and truth and caring and love?

Why look for perfection elsewhere, if a Perfect God

created this Perfect World for us?

Why hope to live in Heaven, when Creator said,

“And it, this world We made

this planet and all in it,

they are good. 

It is all Very Good.”?

*

Perhaps the God we say is Good,

is birthing Goodness elsewhere.

*

But has not God left us in charge?

Does not the Universe still call?

“Oh, ye of little faith!

Regard the mustard seed,

the sparrow, and the grain of wheat.

Believe that you are not alone in longing.

You only need to take one prayerful step

into the Grace of Hopefulness.

Light your small lamp and know

that all is Possible.

For even in this dark time,

where two plus two awake,

Infinity is born.”

*

Perhaps the Heroes of Old will be reborn

and their rusty swords will become plowshares,

tilling the earth back to health.

Perhaps the great female warriors,

who have saved the world before,

will arise,

and mother us all to wholeness.

Perhaps the God we say we put our hope in,

is still hopeful.

Perhaps She hopes, like a Little Child may hope

that Her paper dolls will come alive.

Perhaps the Divine Parent

is crossing the Fingers that made this world;

fingers crossed that we, His dearest children,

will still take the plunge, and be reborn.

Perhaps Creator One, still believes in us;

believes that we can heal our Land;

believes that we can love each other;

believes that we can bring Heaven to Earth

as we were entrusted to do.

Perhaps there is still a smidgen of Divine Belief

that lions will once more be at peace with lambs,

and that we humans will look around and see — 

there is enough for all of us.

And we will look at each other without fear,

because we will have re-created God’s world,

and we will say, “It is good. It is very good.”

.

*

If today, in this small being I call myself,

if there is a grain of hope that I can be a part,

then like the little fledgling that I am,

I hope to purify my longing heart.

Let us be gathered under Wings of Love,

to safely brave the elements of war,

and may I, even I,

someday say with all the hope a newborn has,

“Let there be peace on Earth,

and let it begin with me.”

*

© Jane Tawel, 2023

A Lack Recognized May Lead to Why

forest trees marked with question marks
https://unsplash.com/photos/i–IN3cvEjg

A Lack Recognized May Lead to Why

By Jane Tawel

October 19, 2021

*

A lack of contentment often leads us,

when really, it should follow.

It takes us out of acceptance and peace,

and into pursuits most hollow.

*

With no sense of acquiring completion,

We look not inwards but out,

to therapy, religion, addiction,

or buying or trading in love’s parody.

Without Presence and cohesion

We are lured by the sirens of repletion.

*

We wake, immediately dissatisfied,

and search within books or tasks,

and we think we are looking for answers,

but all we’re left with are questions we ask, ask, ask.

It’s the Why, and the Why, and the Why that we lack.

It’s “The Reason” we keep looking for.

It’s the focus on what we once had once before,

It’s the looking beyond for a new exit door,

It’s the upping our game in the need to outscore,

And we buy and we buy so we don’t feel so poor,

and we’re always left lonely and searching for more.

*

And you surely can hear in rhymes’ reiteration,

the mode we live in is vast acceleration.

So, to leave us all with just one bit of advice,

Let the worries and joys of today all suffice.

For yesterday can be the gift that you seek,

if you let your heart’s memories be lovingly tweaked,

and keep only the good and the healthful remembrance,

for the rest is a burden and ill-causing encumbrance.

And Tomorrow – why that is the gift we don’t have yet.

So why think what might happen?–that’s just a fool’s bad bet.

If we know that by waking tomorrow we win,

then to anticipate sorrow is truly a sin.

*

So Rejoice! You have Choice!

Choose today to embrace–

just your time, just your self, just your life in this place!

And no matter how bad your life truly is seeming,

You’re important – remember, your life has a meaning.

You’re created by special intent and design.

You are loved. You are God’s child. You are truly divine.

So today, treat yourself as if you’re more than matter,

Because Someone believes that you really do “matter”.

You are You. We are We. They are They. I am I.

And that’s it. That is all. That alone, answers, “Why”.

*

© Jane Tawel October 19, 2021

I-Thou Consciousness

by Jane Tawel

Clarissa and I, her mom

I-Thou Consciousness

By Jane Tawel

August 9, 2021

*

Oh, God!

Are You not conscious

without my Being,

conscious of You?

*

I-Thou revolts

and revises the mundane,

profane, explainers,

complainers, man-splainers,

and painful, painful, pain.

You are both bane

and that small niggling voice

that makes me whole again,

if only temporarily, I fear, My Dear.

*

Oh- the pain!

I used to obsess about you

and that one time that you let me draw near.

Remember how the rain fell?

Rain, falling like the tears of our laughter.

Did I only imagine it?—

snot coming out of Your nose?! Hahaha…

and our laughter driving away your hurt,

my hurt, The Whole World’s In Your Hands Hurt,

like a rainbow.

You were once my rainbow.

*

I sometimes resign myself and I,

to doing the will of the dearest child

and Thou.

But, if not in fact,

in the ever-changing, ever the same,

universe of quantum physics

of the Ineffable Essence of Other

and others, and other days…

(perhaps actions are over-rated at the best of times).

*

Becoming,

Thy Will be done.

Your heart still held tenderly, carefully,

as if stone could ever remain unbroken.

Your pulse, beating close to mine,

as close as the womb I once shared.

Becoming what must be Willed.

Becoming, whatever in the world it means,

to always circle back to Love.

*

© Jane Tawel  August 9, 2021

Written on the birthdate of my daughter, Clarissa Sandrine

I Don’t Know Who I Could Be

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/photos/Jqhwp4mcuUM

I Don’t Know Who I Could Be

A Poem

By Jane Tawel

April 19, 2021

I don’t know who I’d be, if I stopped unforgiving.

I don’t know who I’d be, if I spent less time worrying.

And who would I be if I didn’t care to keep up my grades,

but instead, judged not, either self or you?

If winning was an illusion I left behind like a broken toy,

might I know the terrible, fearsome freedom of joy?

*

I rarely know who I am, except as a passing glance,

a whirl of motion, unsteadied by a center aflame.

And I have always hated my name.

Longing for meaning in the temporal labeling

of a self-made shelter from identity thieves

I become “that person”, not myself.

My pronouns are “it” and “that”.

*

I hold myself at arm’s length,

and keep my arms too full;

so, by thinking I carry the weight of the world,

I carry a chimera, not a Hope.

Too afraid to empty my hands of grasping-ness,

too impatient or easily irritated to extend out,

either to help or hug.

I corner my soul like a trapped animal.

*

I don’t know who I could be,

so rather than running towards,

I take a step backwards.

Never throwing caution to the wind,

I am winded by a stagnancy of fearful insecurities,

an anger of ant-sized proportions.

My senseless, defenseless fists,

of my deformed ego, beat against

the beating of my expensive, essence-ed heart.

I sell my soul for the fast-food of believing that I was right.

I hide true treasure where I won’t find it.

*

Not knowing who I was once,

I still sense who I could become.

There is a self a-waiting just ahead,

No not a head, — a heart and will and

sensuality of Spirit-world.

The senses know

what the soul can only dream of.

*

My soul whispers,

soft as an Infant’s caressing forefinger,

strong as a memory of another World:

“You can become. You are becoming.

Let yourself meet yourself,

and be Created.

Come.”

Homily #3: Inside, Outside, Upside-Down

“Garden Mist” by noisen8r is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Homily #3: Inside, Outside, Upside-Down

By Jane Tawel

February 13, 2021

*

Reflection.

Introspection.

How does your garden grow?

Merrily, merrily or usually contrarily;

It is rarely in what one thinks one knows.

*

There is an inside swirling,

with thoughts and fears and broken bits galore;

and feelings unrestrained take the helm most times

and leave reason and worth cast ashore.

*

The outside waits and wanders

through labyrinths of time;

But whether future, past or now,

we very often find,

that outside does not translate in

unless we introspect

on whether demon or divine

our words and deeds reflect.

*

If we could wear our insides, out,

and see others’ outsides for what’s within;

we’d live as we were meant to live

in Harmonious Garden once again.

*

Oh, the world is right-side-up most days.

Yes, that is tragically true.

But if we’d live more upside-down,

 — You loving me — I loving you — 

We’d see reflected not Narcissus,

but souls that bear fruit most delicious.

The Tree of Evil and of Good

would make us into what we should

think and feel and do and be.

For Love turns all things topsy-turvy.

My insides out, your outsides in;

Eternal Life then re-begins.

©Jane Tawel 2021

Caught Up — Let Go (a poem)

By Jane Tawel

 

two people

“two people” by Katerina Atha is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

 

Caught Up – Let Go

A Song with Words

 

By Jane Tawel

August 18, 2020

1.

Caught up again, and it feels like yesterday,

Dragging my life again, into tomorrow,

With no Today in sight.

And the days stretch on

And the nights are long,

And I lie there wondering

Where have hope and joy gone?

Oh, I’m trapped inside my own thoughts and dreads,

And I can’t get out of my aching head,

And my heart is broken for the things we’ve lost,

So, I worry and fret and I turn and toss.

Oh, I’m so caught up

In what might have been.

Oh, I’m so caught up

In what might never be

And I think there’s no way for you and me

To solve these problems

‘Cause we’re too caught up

and we can’t untangle from the past

and we can’t stop wrangling with tomorrow

and we let today, oh, our only day,

slip away,

slip away,

slip away,

but we don’t let go.

*

Chorus

*

When you get caught up

In the hopes and fears,

And both bring angst,

And both bring tears,

And you can’t be positive

‘Cause you’re so nonchalant,

And the negativity has lost its shock-

Value – what is value any more?

The haters and the whiners threw your ethics out the door.

Oh, I’m so caught up,

Yes, I’m too caught up,

And I need some help

To let go.

*

2.

*

We have got to try

Both You and I

To release and untie

All the pain, all the lies.

Let’s unravel the false bonds,

And what we’ve placed our stakes on.

Oh, I don’t know about you,

But from my point of view,

I’ve made yesterday a jail,

And tomorrow looms like hell.

And today I’ve filled with stressing,

Instead of seeing it as Heaven.

*

I’ve forgotten how to pivot,

From all the things today isn’t.

Maybe you have too?

Maybe you have joined the queue

Of the hopeless and the blue?

But did we really have to?

*

Isn’t it more likely,

We have broken our own psyches,

And we shouldn’t keep on blaming,

All the haters we keep naming?

I admit, it’s my own fault,

That I’ve put a hard, fast halt,

On embracing this rare day,

And to walk the narrow Way,

Of mindfully embracing,

What I’m feeling, what I’m tasting.

*

But I’m so caught up

With a half-empty cup,

That I can’t let go of you yesterday,

And I can’t let go of you tomorrow,

And I can’t let go to drink of Today,

Taste of Today,

Live Life Today,

Be in Today.

*

And because I have been stiffened,

 And not bent, and not listened;

I’ve ignored you and been missing,

Life’s best offerings and visions.

We have made our life a prison.

*

And the We, of you and I,

Keeps passing us by

And This moment flees — bye-bye.

Bye, bye to tick.

Bye, bye to tock.

Imprisoned by this broken clock.

Take stock

Of what we have.

Take stock of just Today.

Just Today.

Just one more moment,

One more today.

One more now.

tick.

tock.

*

3.

Oh, the “Who’s” lost the “Why”,

And most days I just die,

To the life that’s worth living

If only I’d give in,

And let go,

Just let go,

Let myself go.

and let you go,

so I could catch you again.

*

Today can not change

What was yesterday’s pain,

But it can use our pasts,

To make good things that last.

And tomorrow’s not pledged,

But our bets, we should hedge.

For by what we are building,

today for the children,

will one day be our memory,

for the World’s legacy.

*

4.

Let us grab hard and hold,

Let’s be present, and bold

As we treasure the sights and the sounds,

Of just what is around,

In the here and the now.

Let’s renew solemn vows,

And increase our know-how,

Of just breathing, and being,

And in that way freeing,

Both me and you.

We can make dreams come true,

If we just today do.

Let’s do this! —

With a new point of view,

Hope and Love will breakthrough.

*

Coda

*

No longer caught up,

Except in love.

No longer a prisoner,

Except of hope.

Releasing the past,

Except for good memories.

Accepting the future,

But not its fears.

Today, I let go of what has caught me.

Today I choose freedom.

Today I choose to be mindful in moments.

Today I choose to love my life.

Today I choose to love you.

*

Letting Go – Holding fast,

Only this love of ours will last.

Letting Go – Holding fast,

Only love will last.

*

© Jane Tawel 2020

He Gives and Takes Away – a Poem

He Gives and Takes Away
Thoughts on the Book of Job, the parable of the barn, and Writings of Richard Foster

By Jane Tawel

April 26, 2015

God Gave. . . . . . .

I clutched on tight.

Health.
Then Cancer.

Spouse.
Then Betrayal.

Job.
Then Dismissal.

Children.
Then Distance.

Thoughts.
Then Confusion.

Life.
Then Death.

And I Cried Out:
I Can’t Hold On Anymore.

God Reminded me,
Jesus Taught you to Pray.
“Give me”.

I looked at my hands holding on so hard,
Tight red palms, callused fingers clutching on
To Everything I love.
To Everything I want.
To Everything I need.

I don’t want to let go, I whispered.
I Love.
I Need.
I Must.
I Will.

God Reminded me,
Jesus Taught you to Pray,
“Not my will — Yours”.
My hands hurt.
My heart beats not in my throat
But in my grasping hands,
My heart pounding
With the fear of letting go.
My heart is in my hands.

God Reminded Me,
Jesus Taught you to Pray.
“Deliver me”.
Where your heart is, there is your treasure.
(Oh, Ugh! I didn’t mean to jog down this street. Oops. I am gonna walk in the other direction because I need to get to my home and figure out how to keep my job, how to debate my spouse, how to keep my insurance, what to make for dinner tomorrow, how to talk to my child, how to plan my day, how to tell her no, how to get better, what to take, how to get that, and get that, and keep this, and keep that, and not let them know, and tell them, and tell them, and own, own, own, and own, and do it just do it, and keep thinking it through, and never have another moment’s worry. I gotta get there.)

I heard a Voice,
“Hold things lightly.”

Oh my God.
I can’t.
Everything will slip away.

God reminded me:
Jesus taught you to pray.
“On earth, as in heaven.”
“In your little scared hands, hold on only
To what was in My Son’s hands on earth.
Our Big Scarred hands will hold all the Rest for you.”

The centrifugal force of my Rest-less spinning self is throwing me outward propelling me toward the Black Hole of Holding while my hands clutch at the un-tethered, floating flotsam of Stuff. Just stuff I’ve been holding onto for some time now.

Jesus taught me to Pray:
“Forgive me. “

“And oh, my God, if I let go,
Please don’t let me float away.”

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
God Gives.
God Takes Away.

I open my hands and All I am holding -on to,
begins to drift lightly upward
like many little feathers.

I will walk Home
With hands wide open.
“Naked I came, and naked I will go.
He gives and takes away.”
Bless not me, Bless Him.

And if I ever lose my hands
Bless the Lord oh my soul.