an ode to my first seventh grade class

Last year, on the back of a test, I had my seventh graders write down what animal they were most like and why. Some of their answers (below) were rather poetic and inspired the following ode I mostly wrote last year, but just finished now.

Elsie is a quiet dragon

aching to explode.

A poet in the corner

striking fear into her foes.

Ariela is a trusty horse,

a steady, loyal friend.

Lydia- a soaring hawk,

it's shoulder painted red.

Nathan is an eagle,

flying wild with energy.

Sean, a sleepy, sassy sloth

hanging in a crecopia tree.

Sarah is a cashmere lop

with silky, white-blonde hair.

She lives inside a music box

and dances on the air.

Nora is a wild horse,

a beauty running free-

but never straying far from home,

loyal in liberty.

The first Luke's a quick-witted wolf,

creatively leading his pack.

He howls along to a distant song-

ideas echo back.

The second Luke's an eagle-

to spot him in the sky is rare.

Smart and well-protected,

he flies fearless through the air.

Wendy is a koala,

sleeping soundly in a faraway tree.

Lexi- a six-foot teddy bear

stuffed full with personality.

Noah is a tiger,

kind yet tough and down-to-earth.

Mercedes- a sweet baby alicorn,

full of mystery and mischief.

Jackson is a falcon,

with an eye for detail and beauty.

Declan is a monkey,

swinging sincere from tree to tree.

Portia is a monkey too,

but quite a different kind.

Something's hidden, something dark

is tangled in the vines.

I end with another lonely dragon

wandering through the school.

Ariel, red and filled with fire,

deep in her cave of shining jewels.

The original responses

W: I would be a koala, because they get to sleep up to 20 hours a day.

E: I would choose a dragon so my enemies would run away.

L: Wolf/African wild dog, because family and friends are my strengths and weakness, I swim well and like it, I am quick (witted and walking), man’s best friend, and loyal to friends.

N:  Animal- tiger. Why- fierce and fab, strong, tough.

A: I would be a horse because I feel I am steady and loyal.

N: I would be a wild horse because they are so free and can run very fast and they are very pretty.

S: A cashmere lop (rabbit) because they are very fast and insanely fluffy.

L: A red-shouldered hawk so I could fly.

M: A baby alicorn because I am often very sleepy, like to play, and I am pretty good at getting in trouble.

L: An eagle. First of all because I could fly (duh) and second of all eagles are a protected species so I wouldn’t have to worry about being hunted.

A: I would either be a dragon or a dog because I am a hoarder of stuff and because I am a follower.

L: A six foot tall stuffed bear.

D: A monkey because I’m funny and sometimes annoying.

P: I would be a monkey because they are crazy and put on masks like me.

J: I would be a peregrine falcon because they are super fast. I would also be a mockingbird so I could mock Sean.

S: I would be a sloth because I would get to live in trees and sleep a lot.

N: I want to be eagle because I really want to fly and eagle has great skills for hunting.

blending

The sun kissed my face and my shoulders with light, 

leaving cookie dough spots on my skin, ice cream white.

The wind tossed my hair, like the sea, into waves

leaving stormy swirls only a sailor could brave.

The sky filled my eyes with a curious blue,

leaving calm pools of color for you to walk through.

So step into me slowly, swim into the sea.

Hold my face, like the sun, in your hands tenderly.

Then sweeter and bolder, both splashing and still,

we'll find beauty in the colors, the blending of wills.

foundation

Profuse are the kisses of an enemy,
but faithful are the wounds of a friend.
If you love me, speak to me plainly.
Tell me what's truly on your mind.

Though it may cause some present pain,
the outcome is my trust.
I rest secure in your embrace
when I know your love is honest-

that it can see my many faults,
but doesn't find me ugly.
Your faithful wounds help me to heal-
to make lovelier what's already lovely.


"Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality." Romans 12:9-13

night shift

Goodnight, my love,
my rising moon.
I wish I did not have
to leave you so soon.

While I sink into sleep,
you greet each of the stars,
You emerge from the east,
and then follow your course.

I long to fly with you,
but live in the light.
So shine on me brightly,
that together we might

listen to the sounds
and savor the sights,
awake and alive,
of these still summer nights.

A chorus of crickets,
a katydid call,
a flick'ring of fireflies,
the song of an owl.

The twinkle of airplanes
interrupting the stars,
the gleam of great planets
like Saturn or Mars.

But the best sight of all
is my moonrise above,
each detail reflecting
the Sun's light and love.

As we wander through darkness,
walking hand in hand,
may our love look like Jesus-
a light in this land.

immortal, invisible, God only wise

A new flute choir arrangement, inspired by Reba Snyder's piano arrangement of the hymn!

Immortal, invisible, God only wise,
in light inaccessible hid from our eyes,
most blessed, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,
almighty, victorious, thy great name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,
nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might;
thy justice like mountains high soaring above
thy clouds which are fountains of goodness and love.

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,
thine angels adore thee, all veiling their sight;
all praise we would render; O help us to see
'tis only the splendor of light hideth thee!

overwhelmed

at first,
i think the rain is fun.
i splash in puddles
and fondly think of the sun.

but soon
i'm in up to my knees.
the rain is pouring,
rising rapidly.

the panic follows,
climbs up to my throat.
desperately i search
for some way out.

the old thought returns-
a knife to my skin.
everything stops,
would it be a sin?

i think it over
underwater.
numb and blue,
maybe i could breathe here.

in my mind, i make a cut
with perfect focus.
dark red droplets form
like tiny roses

along a stem
that will someday turn to scar.
now everything moves slowly,
fear is far-

in some other world
above the water.
why should i go back?
my mind cuts deeper.

it is not pursuit of pain
but of relief-
a calm that comes
from releasing pent-up grief.

but something else pulls,
relentless, at my heart.
it whispers stop,
that's not who you are
anymore.

i swim to the surface
and breathe in fresh air.
i know i'm not hopeless,
i know that you're there.

i put the knife back
where it belongs in the cupboard,
i shake off my numbness
and open my heart to the real world.

i dance in the rain
because i know that you will dance with me.
the song is forever,
so why, tell me why
should i worry?

i look at my leg,
six-year-old scars turning white.
they lost their power over me
when i brought them
into the light.

painting

My heart explodes with colors as we travel hand in hand.

Green, the sprawling field we wander like a whispered prayer.

Yellow, the tiny flowers you place in my curly hair.

Blue, the boundless, cloudless sky that seems to sing above.

Purple, the quiet color of my careful love.

I hand you my heart on a palette, and feel you dip a gentle brush

into pink, the morning sun that rises silent, slow, and fair.

Into peach, the new spring tulips blooming by themselves somewhere.

Into lavender, the lullabies you sing into my ear.

I imagine a fuller painting waiting just beyond my fear.


day 27 prompt: bloom

colibrí

My shame is the ruby-red throat of a hummingbird
who swallows her heart as she zips through the sky.
Hovering in the trees, sparkling emerald-green,
longing for her beats per minute to decline.

If you happen to spot us, listen to the songs
that spring from our throats at dusk and at dawn.
If you can keep up, then please sing along.
We'll choke up our hearts til we believe they belong.


day 26 prompt: unravel

day by day

Today's song is the hymn "Day by Day and with Each Passing Moment." This song feels to me like a hug. It is a Swedish hymn, written by Lina Berg in 1865 after the death of her father. This hymn makes me think of my grandmother, who sings it in Swedish: "Blott en Dag," and reminds me that the Lord's mercies are new each morning, and He is with me each day.




Lyrics:

Day by day and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here;
trusting in my Father's wise bestowment, I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what he deems best-
lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day the Lord himself is near me with a special mercy for each hour;
all my cares he fain would bear, and cheer me, he whose name is Counselor and Pow'r.
The protection of his child and treasure is a charge that on himself he laid;
"As your days, your strength shall be in measure," this the pledge to me he made.

Help then in every tribulation so to trust your promises, O Lord,
that I lose not faith's sweet consolation offered me within your hold Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting, e'er to take, as from a father's hand,
one by one, the days, the moments fleeting, till I reach the promised land.

potential

Can I put you in a poem?
Can I hang you on a wall in my home?
Can I hold you, but not just in my head?
Can I keep you, like a book I've never read?

Keep you, like that book, on my shelf for ages-
so much potential in its pages.
I dare not open it up and find
it's not what I built it up to be in my mind.

No, instead, can I take you off the shelf
and open the book of your beautiful self?
Step into the unknown story inside,
letting go of my pictures, my poems, my pride.


day 18 prompt: protect

when spring comes

When Spring comes,
flowers can’t help but grow
and let go of the winter.

When a leaf falls in the stream,
it can’t help but follow
the pull of the water.

And when the sun
shines down on me,
I cannot help but quiver.

I shake off
who I used to be
and jump into the river.

bubbles

This afternoon, I was strolling through
an unfamiliar neighborhood,
when I walked past a long driveway
where a kind grandmother stood.

She stood outside her little home,
blowing bubbles through a bubble wand
for her grandson to chase- how he ran!
But some escaped his grasping hands,

then accompanied me to the end of the street,
'til they finally disappeared in defeat.
I watched them float against the blue sky.
They traveled slowly, and so did I.

Serenely spending all my hours,
watching days unfold like flowers,
talking to invisible people,
praying under an invisible steeple.

Who can tell what a day might bring?
I shed my cares and start to sing,
a bubble, small with fragile skin,
death's palm ever o'er-shadowing.

I will follow you to the end of the road,
of life, that unknown neighborhood.
And when I vanish and am no more,
I will, shining, arrive at heaven's door.


day 6 prompt: hour
day 8 prompt: long

a conversation

Is God still in control?
Yes.
Is God still good?
Yes.
Does God still love me?
Yes.
Does God still care about me?
Yes.
Will He ever stop caring?
No.
Does God know everything about me?
Yes.
Does God know everything that will happen in the future?
Yes.
Does He have good plans for me?
Yes.
Can I trust Him completely?
Yes.
Can I praise Him, even now?
Yes.
Could things get hard?
Yes.
Will worrying help?
No.

Okay.

God, you are in control.
You are good.
You love me.
You care about me.
I can't sit here and say that no one does
or ever will.
You will never stop.
You know me completely,
you know each moment of my life
before one comes to pass.
You have good plans for me.
I can trust you completely,
and that is why I can praise you.
Even when things get hard,
you are still in control.
You are still good.
Your love never fails.

If I fear you,
I have nothing to fear.

Forgive me for being jealous and envious of others.
Help me to be content where I am right now,
to praise you where I am,
to follow you where I am,
to trust you where I am,
to let go of shame,
to let you grow me where I am
and not compare myself to others
or where I think I should be.
God, be near to me.

storm

Light streams in through my window
pressing on me like a stamp.
I draw the thick blue curtains
and turn on a lamp.

Rolling over on my side,
I write a letter to the sun.
I tell him that I miss him
and can't wait for him to come.

Then, lying in my dim bedroom,
dream of light and love and warmth,
tuck the letter under my pillow,
and wait for it to storm.


day 5 prompt: window

exit

anxiety,
my constant companion,
scans every new room
for the nearest exit.

marriage is a room
with no doorway but death.
i don't think i'm ready
to step into it yet.

flatten the curve

some days i wish
i could flatten the curve
of my feeling.

when the curve swings so low
i wish that my heart
would stop beating.

sweet chariot,
swing low to scoop me up,
to carry me home.

i don't really want
to be flattened.
i want to be known.



day 4 prompt: curves

measure

I could measure every part of you,
calculate every dimension.
I could count each hair upon your head
and determine how fast it lengthens.
I could give you the most thorough
physical examination.
Tell me, friend,
Would I truly know you then?

I could look into your family tree,
to understand your history.
I could explore your town, your school, your home,
to see the different sights you see.
I could come with you to work
and put it all into a spreadsheet.
Friend, tell me
Would that cover everything?

I could put down all my measuring tools
and sit inside your silence.
I could listen to your poetry
and put away the science.
I could stay up with you all night
and slowly gain your confidence.
I know I can never know you,
but tell me,
Would you like to dance?


day 2 prompt: measure

marble machine

My tears roll through
a magical marble machine
of your design.
Stained with swirls of grief,
spinning, sliding toward relief.
I know this sadness will be brief,
but it’s all mine.

practice

I choose to view this challenge 

as an opportunity to practice patience.

And instead of drowning in worry,

or wallowing in self-pity,

I will say "Thank you, God

for giving me this opportunity."

And I will practice.

Just like learning an instrument

or multiplication tables,

I need a lot of practice,

and it's not always easy,
and I don't always want to,
and sometimes I fall flat on my face.

But the more I practice

the better I get.

and the more I get to enjoy the good fruit

that it produces.

The more that I taste that good fruit,

the less I desire the bad fruit,

the comfortable, familiar, deadly fruit

of my past.

Lord, you have washed me clean

and made me new.

You have set me free-

now I'm free to follow You.

I am not auditioning

for a part in your kingdom.

I am practicing a part

I've already graciously been given,

and I want to perform it well.

Thank you for these opportunities

to rehearse and retell redemption,

to remember where I came from

and where I'm going.

pearl

My hand is curled up in yours

like a little white pearl inside an oyster.

You hold my hand as if you clasp
the key to some curious treasure.

But smooth and round, the pearl slips out

and drops into the sea.

She sinks deep down and speculates,

Will he dive in after me?

day 1 prompt: hands

strong enough

My heart is wide, and like my eyes,
boasts the brightest shade of blue.
If it's big enough to hold the sun,
it's big enough for you.

My heart is wide, and like the sun,
it needs to be held too.
If you're strong enough to let me go,
I hope you never do.

march

The sun is a heavy glory,
weighing me down with delight.
The trees slowly gain freckles
of light green life.

My face is a crowded forest,
soaking in each drop of sun.
My heart quickly loses interest
in barren winter months.

castle

My mind's a messy bedroom,
and I don't know where to start
when it comes to climbing through
the cluttered chambers of my heart.

I tiptoe through the trash heap.
To function, I must ignore the piles
that grow bigger, louder by the day
'til they scream and stretch for miles.

I cover myself with clothing
that's been picked up off the floor.
"It's okay," I tell a wrinkled shirt.
"I've been there many times before."

My mind's a messy bedroom
I don't want anyone to see.
My heart's a dungeon of indecision,
my body both beauty and beast.

A chattering enchanted castle,
teeming with sentient, out-of-place pieces
longing to be lifted
from their spells, to be set in their places.

The spells are always lurking,
so if you see me in a wrinkled shirt,
please ask me how I'm doing,
if I trust you, I might offer a tour

of my mind, that messy bedroom
and my heart, that prison cell.
Could you possibly find a princess
in this crazy, cluttered castle?

premiere

It's not on the tip of my tongue.
It's not obvious, like a drum.
Quiet feet start to tap
and my mind starts to hum
that shapeless song, the prospective poem.

The trance ends when you walk in the room.
Our mouths speak but our hearts are on mute.
Leave me 'lone for a while,
in my home, on an isle,
and the poem will quickly resume.

It's not the American Dream,
It's a walk in the woods, two tired feet in a stream.
It's swimming in sadness
that no one can see.
I follow the poem to the bottom of me.

Will you ever be able to follow me here?
Will you ever break down these tall fences of fear?
I keep taking it slow,
I don't know, I don't know.
In the end, all I've got is a poem to premiere.

ghosts

I am lonely again, and lie in bed
listening to the wind blow worries through my head.
If I called out to you, I know you would come,
but I'm paralyzed again with gloom.

How can I ask you
to stay in a haunted house?
How can I ask you
to share your space with ghosts?

elsie (part 2)

I greet Elsie in the hallway
with a smile every day.
She says hello with an even tone
and stares ahead with a stony gaze.

Her mouth is nearly motionless,
as flat as Illinois.
Her expression has no curves or hills.
She walks with purpose and poise.

But I have seen her smile
in the lunchroom now and then.
I have seen her stone walls soften
in the presence of a friend.

I have even seen her laughing,
but just when it seems the way is clear,
I reach out to her again
and walk straight into a glass door.

A heedless, happy robin,
slammed into the ground once more.
Will I ever find the key to the house
where Elsie's smile is stored?

She speaks to me of poetry.
She hints at darkness deep.
She tells of a great dragon
in a faraway cave, asleep.

I fancy myself a mother bird
offering fat worms of hope
to dragons or children in tangled up nests
who need to know they're not alone.

painted sky

I'm twenty-two, and drive to work
while the sun rises every morning.
If I'm lucky, I can see the sun set
as I drive home in the evening.

I feel like I just discovered
sunrises and sunsets this past year.
I used to think that the really beautiful ones
were an exception, something rare.

But now the sky lights up differently
every morning and every night.
The clouds' soft edges boldly gleam,
and vibrant colors fill my tired eyes.

I'm twenty-two and never knew
that each day held such a gift.
I discovered it when I needed to-
when my soul began to slip.

New masterpieces every day
that move my heart to praise
His mercies, new each morning,
and His never-failing grace.

He lifts the sun so lovely,
even when most of the world sleeps in.
We ignore the beauty just outside
our curtains or our skin.

Faithfully, He paints the sky
each morning and each night.
Until we know we are in need
we will not see the light.