Poetry

My adolescent life was a playground swing.

Back and forth:

Between Mom

And

Between Dad.

I never knew where to go, nor where I belonged.

I didn’t know where home was, for I couldn’t be close to them both.

As I travel into the deeper places in my heart, in prayer and in therapy, I have found a deep craving for silence, right alongside a deep fear of silence. At the core of my fear, is the fear that God will not ‘show up’ in the silence. Growing up, and to this day, my relationship with my dad has been marked by an empty silence.

Five branches from the trunk of the split tree

Four girls and a fella, that’s my siblings and me

In Three years we went from complete to shut down

Two people once in love

No one left to be found

Day after day, You remain,

And slowly I begin to trust again.

I grow impatient,

You are steady and sure.

You are not afraid

Of my anger and accusations.

You do not run when it is hard.

You stay, You listen, You hear me.

You open my eyes,

And I see what I have always wanted.

Feel the courage to claim it and desire it.

You walk towards me.

And You hold my heart in pieces in Your hands.

Jesus, Jesus, I am scared.

Rescue me.

You awake and calm the storm

around me.

But there is still a storm

inside me.

You look at me and ask:

Will you show me your hurt?

Will you let me embrace you?

Will you accept my healing grace?

This poem is the fruit of that time of prayer in which God showed me how many voices I allow to control my life, my thoughts and perceptions of reality. And even more so, He showed me how I have a real choice as to what voice I choose to follow in my life.

Being a very proud person, I have struggled a lot, knowing that my husband knows all about my weaknesses and failings—and yet at the same time I have a very deep desire to be totally known and loved. This poem explores this theme, while also touching on the grief of losing our fifth child at 22 weeks last year.

The title is a reference to the old unit of measurement that was roughly the length of a forearm. It expresses how the poorly managed conflict and ultimate breakdown in my parents’ marriage left me avoidant of relationships with others, particularly romantic ones. Even as I met amazing individuals who were attractive on so many levels, I kept them at a distance out of fear and shame...

I am here to tell you some amazingly good news! Jesus said in the Gospel of John, “I will not leave you orphans. I will come to you” (Jn 14:18). God, in His infinite wisdom, knows fully the hearts and minds of all His children. He would never write a desire into our hearts without also providing for its fulfillment!

Forgiveness is hard. I can attest to that. I was born angry (by the looks of my baby picture!) and my parents’ divorce cemented that anger even more. I was the queen of holding grudges; I literally held them for years. But that was before I reverted to Catholicism, and I heard about forgiveness on a daily basis through the Lord’s Prayer and the teachings of Jesus.

This poem came out of a recent time of prayer. When I was two years old, my father left my mother, my sister (3 months old), and myself. We saw him every other weekend for a few years, and then he remarried and moved around the country from job to job for most of my childhood. This poem expresses my struggle to call God “Abba” and to trust in His loving, faithful presence.

This is a poem about my parents’ divorce. The title “Flight 1015” refers to their wedding anniversary on October 15th and in the poem their love is metaphorically described as both the turbulence and the airplane itself. The poem is also a modern dialogue with Robert Frost’s famous poem about marriage entitled “The Master Speed.”

There are only a few memories I can recall to explore the day my father left our house. These are expressed in the first sonnet: The Loss. It reflects a memory of events that culminated in the day my dad left the house where our family lived. The second sonnet, The Suffering, covers the period of my adolescence through early adulthood. The third sonnet, The Healing, opens with an allusion to The Interior Castle by St. Teresa of Avila; this is a work I confess to having not yet read, but I have heard numerous talks on the Saint and her work on inner prayer. The second stanza of the third sonnet begins by referencing a song by Life Giving Wounds team member and musician Michael Corsini called Waiting in the Wound. This song had a profound impact upon me when I went on the Life Giving Wounds retreat and I still will listen to it and meditate when the mood arises.