The Lighter Side of JzB

Here you will find photos, poetry, and possibly some light-hearted foolishness. For the Heavier Side
of JzB
see my other blog,
Retirement Blues. (There be dragons!)

I claim copyright and reserve all rights for my original material of every type and genre.


Every day visits*
From Moose, Goose, and Orb Weaver
All seized by Haiku


"Why moose and goose?" you may ask. Back on 2/04/13 Pirate wrote a haiku with an elk in it, and I responded with
one with a moose and then included him every day. A few days later in comments Mystic asked "Where's the goose?"
So I started including her with this post on 2/07. A week later on the 14th, Mark Readfern
asked for and received a spider. The rest is history.

*Well, most days, anyway. Grant me a bit of poetic license.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Imaginary Garden - Camera Flash

The entries I've read for this prompt have tended toward a dark turn - and, indeed, the photo surely invites that.  But it jogged a memory for me - of when I happened to be in the water at just the right moment.  This is an older poem, but - hey - the challenge is wide open --- so . . .

The date stamp on the file for this poem is August, 2000, so I suppose that's when I wrote it. It is the narrative of a real incident, just as it happened. My wife and I were driving around one day, rather aimlessly, and went into a park. There was a lake, and we took our shoes off, and waded along the shore line. It wasn't crowded, but there were quite a few people there, in the water, and along the beach.

I am not a religious person, but this was a deeply moving event. Every time I re-read it, I have to fight back the tears.  Here is how it happened.


               SAVING TIME

Such a simple thing, to lift a child.
Hands grasp her sides, a second pair of ribs
Beneath plump arms, and swing her high:
Inconsequential weight on angel's wings.

Farther down the beach a gathering:
Mexican Pentecostal Church of God
All clad in white and black, their Sunday best,
With angel voices raised in Spanish hymns.

That little girl, no taller than my knee
Has not yet mastered walking on dry land.
In childish guile she flees her family's eyes
Makes her way to water's edge, and in.

Senor Juan Baptiste strides chest-deep
Into the lake. The others, arms raised high,
Invoke God's power as he grasps behind the neck,
Supports each penitent beneath the waves.

When no one else was looking at this girl
I saw her falter, fall, then float face down.
Two splashing steps, hands on her ribs,
I raise her out and draw her to my chest.

We could have driven past this lake today,
Or lazed another minute on the shore,
Or turned our wading walk the other way,
Instead, I found myself above this child.

Juan Baptiste mouths a Spanish prayer,
Lifts his new-found brother from the lake,
As I lift and hold this child close to me,
Saved, as by the very hand of God.

                        ~~::~~

An inspired after-thought

All water flows to the sea
Taking with it everything we've lost
Friends lovers pets tokens memories
Only the memories can be brought back
Dragged to the bony shore in neural nets

                  ~~::~~

4 comments:

  1. What a potent pairing of events at the water's edge, expressing the same faith in water from distant cousin rituals. Finding love inside that faith from both perspectives. Amen.

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  2. I really love this poem... sometimes coincidence really matter... and imagining that little girl now a young woman, I wonder if she knows that part of her being. Really good to be there at the right moment. The baptize ceremony in parallel is an excellent pairing to the event.

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  3. This account gave me chills.. Sometimes the universe aligns things up just right.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thanks, friends. Even now, these many years later, it still gets to me.

    ReplyDelete

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