A writer sometimes gathers words.

I am a writer.  A bit of an artist.  Sometimes I need to get words out of me and I scribble whatever is in me down as it comes out of my fingertips.  That also means that sometime I have scraps of paper in my life with poems.

Of course it happens to me at work so I have notebook pages sitting on my desk that almost never make it anywhere but the pile on my desk.

Alas though, I finally brought home a stack of these papers and thought I would transcribe some of my poetry here.  BTW- inspiration does not necessarily equate quality.

Kinder poem 1

There is a superhero cape on the living room floor.
The superhero has abandoned her cape for Kindergarten.
Instead the donned her backpack of bright stripes.

Kinder Poem 2

I had been told (probably before she was born) how hard the goodbye for Kindergarten would be.
But no one ever told me how proud.
The sadness did not compare to the swelling pride of watching her find her seat and begin a new life with me peering in from the doorway.

Our church is next to a bread factory

On Sundays we gather to beak open the Word of God and to break bread together as the incense of jelly doughnuts rises from the factory next door.

We Catholics feast at our holidays. Feasts of Christmas and Easter.
We bring treats on Baptisms or Confirmations.
We go home and celebrate more.

My faith is serious sorrow, and my faith is serious joy.
We Catholics are fat with our treats of sugar and beer, of pasta and potatoes of rice and tacos.

My faith knows the sorry of famine of oppression and of being lost
and the harried memory of passover and the tragedy of betrayal across a table of bread.

So it is no irony that each Sunday as we gather the smell from the bread factory net door churns out the smell of white bread and cherry hand-pies.  We say, "Lord I am not worthy..." we take our stale bread and drink the too sweet wine and yet we taste the riches.


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