Chalice (2)

I am emptied

all words have slipped out

thoughts are scattered

breath is all that is left

you are the space between the stars

the shadows gathered in the woods

a moonlit reflection on sycamore and birch

the darkness between rib bones

I am your chalice of skin and bone

emptied and emptying like waves upon the shore

rising and falling – within and without

love’s binding of all

Resurrection

Often resurrection hangs in the air

like some floating spring blossoms

released by a wind gust

Resurrection found in stones

singing with one another

as the creek flows around them

Resurrection in the breath of a child

running from the bus

toward the parent’s waiting arms

Resurrection in the dawn-garden

dripping down Mary’s face

until he calls her name

On the road

breaking bread

frying fish

sharing work with one another

sharing stories of healing and grace

Jesus, as we gather, we hear you say:

“and now you’ll be telling stories of my coming back

and they won’t be false,

and they won’t be true

but they’ll be real”*

*Mary Oliver

Sweeping the Salt Away

All day you move just out of sight

a flicker of thought flashing

through the corner of the eye

canted toward a past day

Dusk arrives-- my longing rises

all my windows and doors

laid thick with salt

keeping you at bay

Stars gather overhead-- there is no moon

I sweep the salt from the sill

open the door

and sleep

I feel the heft of you

your shoulder and ribs

heavy against my leg

your dear face held within my hands

Dreams gather and release

breath rises and falls

sighs drift through the open door

a mourning dove calls the dawn

Wake and sweep the salt away

                        Pamela Olson, 7/4/2015

Fat Tuesday

salting my way around the house
too late to keep out the spirits
death stretches its arms
the ashes on my forehead
yet to come

Mt. Mitchell

spruce needles quiver

cloud breath lifts

and falls

cirriform-needles filter the air

as roots lie latched to stone

backbone of this mountain

out-of-place sea creature

wood-barked barnacle drinking air

not seawater

Pam Olson

10/17/14