Shoot me, shoot me if you can
for only then will I be still
be still among the long green ferns
and canted crooked in the grass
try to swallow, swallow then
and find it will be just like rocks
swallowing rocks so hard and brown
that rain can’t wash away, wash down
though I bleed, I bleed in grief
and mourn red, silver-grey, mourn black
I still am, still, in every breath
of wind and every star kissed cloud
because I love you love you love
because I conjure memory
because I choose my long blue path
I am ever always free
So shoot me, shoot me if you can
then will I be
He is risen! He is risen indeed!
I saw the email that said, “New post from Charissa’s Grace Notes!” yesterday, but I didn’t read it because I was busy. I wanted to wait until all was quiet…and I was still.
I love this.
I’m glad I waited. Thank you for sharing. I am refreshed.
Thank you Deb…it was only later that I realized I had written it on the Saturday before the day we specifically commemorate Resurrection Day, and that I have had a practice of writing poetry on that day…this one is a good sibling to the others.
Soo good to hear from you.
There is a WWGB circle time kicking inside me…still some distance off but getting closer.
Holy. Shit. This is beautiful!! 💓
I was sitting with the unbidden guest (Grief) and just being…and then it simply bubbled out. I mentioned to Deb that I have had a practice of writing poetry on the Saturday that we remember that Jesus did some big business deep in the bowels of existence…this one is a sibling, and it is also very different.
There are veins of victory.