love affair with the breeze

to drink the liquor of your love
to breathe in your parfum
O yes
to rest
in your caress,
to drift with you through afternoons.

i love your lightness
i fear your force,
i hate your mystery
yet i trust your course;

you call me to dance
to rush 'cross the long skies,
to plunge into deep valleys
and to crest the steep rise.

and i live for the way
that you say my name
how it whispers through trees
how it wanders down lanes.

O, no other thing
shall compare, i believe,
to this beautiful, breathtaking
love affair with the breeze.

dear god

I want to happen upon a place where I might strip off all my prior wants and desires and pile them heaping up towards your sky in a great alter and watch them burn burn burn and until there is only smoke going up and only ash falling down and then slip quickly naked and clean into the waters of a great ocean that is so loud and wild and purely full of passion for you that drowning is not some kind of fearful death but a desirous joyful end to the old life and a fertile place where new bright sea flowers bloom from the carcasses of old broken bodies and where the angels cry out that behold the old has passed away and the new has come and there will be surge of new life filling up the sea and soon the waters will rise up and overtake the dry land and and all the dry people that have not yet let go and they too will drown and suddenly come rushing back for more life after shedding their old selves and laying their hearts open on the rollicking waves of newness and being warmed by the sun and everything will explode into a glorious spectrum of rainbow buds that sparkle and dance together and create a whole new world and everyone can shout amen.

if there's one thing i know

from my mother
i have learned
to find joy in small victories
like keeping strawberries alive
or finding a good deal.
I have learned
to be cautious yet loving of strangers and relatives
and also i have learned
to appreciate good food.

from my father
i have learned
to look for unexpected beauties
like one million birds moving at once off the marshland
or every morning’s new sunrise.
i have learned
to never let my dreams take off unless I am riding on their wings
and also i have learned
to make my own way through the forest.

from my sister
i have learned
to shut up and listen for a moment
like when we disagree
or during a song that has exceedingly good bass.
i have learned
to forgive gracefully and to go on loving people afterwards
and also i have learned
to thoroughly appreciate ice cream and chocolate sauce.

from my grandmother
i have learned
to take the chances we are given
like accepting a blind date
or picking up and settling down, again.
i have learned
to read good books and to eat bran cereal
and i have learned
that most of the best life advice is found in good housekeeping magazine.

from my grandfather
i have learned
to go on new adventures
like learning to sail
or traveling to the rockies to see a bike race.
i have learned
to always give of myself and to keep my door wide open
and also i have learned
to thrive in a new country with only “beer” and “hamburger” in my vocabulary.

from my opa and oma
i have learned
to persevere in any situation
like being separated from true love
or getting through slow season at the bakery
i have learned
to be light-hearted and ready to catch a baked potato from across the table
and also i have learned
to eat krokets and oliebollen on new year’s eve.

from my best friend
i have learned
to be confident in all things
like abilities and personal style
or in talking about the deepest places of the heart.
i have learned
to trust God’s goodness will meet needs and desires daily
and also i have learned
the importance of curry powder.

notice board

There is
a notice board,
which i pass by
everyday.
Garden-like
it sprouts
new thoughts
new desires
new treasures
holding
shape and color,
and
a particular joy,
unique unto itself.

The sun moves,
new things spring up
old things die
and are buried.
Static
but never the same.

Pull back the layers,
and discover:
each has left a mark
each
thought
desire
treasure
has changed it at its core.

People,
too,
I think,
are like this.

to see You cry

jigsaw puzzles.

today
i woke
to the sweet serenity of Your timing
waiting to reveal just the piece for this moment.
and i saw
the thrilling beauty of Your final picture:
i saw it complete.
and i saw You cry today for each one that forced their own makeshift shapes into spaces and
refused
to
listen.

sunshine.

today
i woke
to the glow of Your presence
waiting to be soaked it into every fibre of each spirit.
and i saw
old shells shod off and new life burst forth:
i saw monotony shatter into color.
and i saw You cry today for each one that
just
could not
let
go.

mason jars.

today
i woke
to the intoxication of Your love
waiting to be poured into the empty mason jars of souls.
and i saw
liquor and tears and false smiles and every other kind of pain washed out:
i saw it spiral down the kitchen sink.
and i saw You cry today for each one that stopped up the drain and scooped up their sorrows
one
more
time.

today
i woke
and saw You

crying.

high

the world curls back.
foundations fall away
forgotten.
night bleeds out:
dawn seeps in.
oh, i'll drink the air
intoxicating like spirits in my viens.
a caged soul screams from sinew
and
soars
soars
soars
lost in the beauty of this
high.

thank goodness for concrete

here
my heart is stripped in two;
imeanitistorninhalf.
here essential,
here superfluous.
vague flowers twist up from sidewalk cracks,
while haggard cobwebs entrance me more.
there is no signage.
no,
and so,
i walk
northandsouth
and
eastandwest.
dissimilar to my elastic mind:
good thing this town is so static,
or i would be lost forever.

"I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living."
Ann Morrow Lindbergh

I am Saskatchewan

I am Saskatchewan
I am tied to the land
I am heaven on fire sunsets in summer
fresh cut flax in fall
screaming winds in winter
living air sweet as syrup in spring
I am emerald lakes
diamond snows
spun gold fields
azure skies
I am morning walks down the old gravel road
noontime siestas in the last rays of sun
evening festivals on the river
midnight lights dancing across empty horizons
I am undulating hills
stretching plains
plunging valleys
untamed wildwood
I am sometimes silent
sometimes roaring
always alive
I am Saskatchewan
I am tied to the land