New to Mary

Hail Mary, full of grace,
Forgive me if I don't yet have the words down.
I am new to this ancient, million-voiced chorus;
New to Mary, ageless mother of countless names.

Bead by bead, I unwrap graces.
I think of Mary at unlikely moments:
As I look through the latest Avon brochure,
Write a memo for a freelance gig,
Or take the puppy for a walk by the church.

She's a woman, like me, whose blood-soaked words
Appear faithfully as the monthly flow,
Whose sorrow and tenderness hide a warrior princess heart.

New to Mary, I dare to laugh with her,
Woman-to-woman,
In ways that make the faithful cringe.
But Mary knows.

New to Mary, I reach for her hand
And take my place
In the spiral dance that never ends.

I awkwardly finger the beads
As the day cools down,
Before I savor peaceful slumber,
New to the practice,
New to Mary,
New to me.

Judith C Evans © 2017

Sabbath

We are safe here.
No hurry-up worries may intrude
Because this day and all its allotted hours
Belong to You and Your call.
"Shoulds" and "what ifs"
Make way for strolls
Through the chilly, damp garden,
Where the first tender shoots
Reach for the mid-March sun.

Later, I browse through our bookshelves.
I pick up a poetry book
That I had vowed to read "someday."
I stare at the pages
And the pages stare back
Until the stirrings of unwritten poems
Overtake me,
Because it's safe to be a poet today.

© Judith C Evans 2016

Unshattered

A collection of mismatched shards:
That is how I saw myself
Until You handed me the missing pieces.

Examined in the light,
Each piece offers
Unexpected colors that change context
And deepen perspective.

Nearly whole,
Revived by Your breath,
I speak with my voice
For the first time.

© Judith C Evans 2014

Untitled

The psalmist says we should
Look for Him in the rushing waters
Where there is nothing but loose pebbles
And air to cling to.

Keep afloat wherever the current takes you;
Find Him when your toes can
No longer touch bottom.

He won't let you go.
Reach out.
He is here.
After all, He gave you
The desires of your heart.

© Judith C Evans 2011

[Written for Thursday Think Tank at Poets United. This week's prompt -- untitled.]

A Few Months Later in Arizona

Only You could persuade me
That this rock-hard, scrubby, suncracked expanse
Is in truth a cool drink of water
          uniquely suited to my
          peculiar thirst.

Only You could perceive
That this relentless solitude, these averted eyes,
          this heartbreaking hunger
Would prove to be ideal suitors
          to my forsaken muse
          and my neglected pen.

How else can I thank You
          but to embark upon this stroll, arm-in-arm, with death?
I live to live, but today, my head rests against death's shoulder.
For only this high desert, whose thirsty afternoons
          and subzero nights
          and sudden lightning
          and bruising hail
          can sicken me with fear,
Can shelter my anonymity,
Provide a haven for my most sacred dreams,
And listen with me in reverent attention
          to Your private hymns.

Submitted to Thursday Poets Rally #43

Friends unseen yet kind 

Say  "there's always time to write" --

Start here -- don't look back.

Many thanks for this award. See all the winners at Promising Poets' Poetry Cafe. I nominate Becky -- be sure to read her work!