Eagles spread their wings
soaring, gliding, way up high –
unfazed by the sun.
copyright 2020 – Carla A. Romarate-Knipel
Eagles spread their wings
soaring, gliding, way up high –
unfazed by the sun.
copyright 2020 – Carla A. Romarate-Knipel
The peaks of mountains
are covered by raging fire –
burning trees, crying.
Thank you God for fall
with its radiant reds and golds
crisp air and apples!
Dear God,
Today may I be kind to others and myself.
May I share compassionate silence as a gift
in a world overloaded with noise.
Help me to find You in the quiet spaces of the day.
In the name of the One who spoke to Elijah, the prophet
in the sheer silence.
Amen.
English:
liquid love flowing
from a porcelain vessel
shaped to hold
warmth and comfort,
…each sip
soothes the soul.
Hiligaynon/Ilonggo:
inom-inom sang cha –
ga-isahanon apang masadya!
tumalagsahon ini nga tini-on
sa katapusan sang panag-on.
Akon ginapasalamatan ini nga dulot,
gikan sa akon bana,
mapinalangga-on nga kaupod.
Hala sige higop sining matam-is nga ilimnon
samtang nagahanduraw
sang iya matam-is nga pololongon.
Tea leaves steep in peace,
soft breezes cool my tea cup –
breathe in, breathe out. Joy!
“Poetry provides us the history of the human heart.” This is what American Poet laureate Billy Collins said in the introductory session of his master class on poetry online that I had attended. This was way back in July, five months since the Covid-19 pandemic began. During those long days of staying at home, I began to read and write poetry more than I ever had since I started appreciating it as a child. For sure I am not a professional poet. I was not a literature major in college nor do I have an MFA in poetry. What I do have is an insatiable curiosity and appreciation for the gift of poetry. I am very grateful for all those in the past who have bared their hearts using ink and paper to give us a glimpse of the architecture of a human soul. There were instances when I was baffled and moments that I was profoundly moved by these heart historians. But in times of uncertainty, reading a poem, has given me some stability, something to hold on to while the storm rages on. In my blog I humbly share some of my attempts to write a history of my own heart, grateful for the gift of poetry and those who generously bestowed them to us. May the Master Poet who has breathed life into us and created this world with poetic beauty and grandeur, inspire us with the joy of receiving this gift!
Pearly white grains wait
in a pot, soaked in water
while I sit and pray.
Dear Lord,
I pause at noon day to listen to you. But today I decided to cook rice and pray at the same time. My eyes are glancing at the pot to watch for the water not to boil over; while my heart is waiting for a word from you. Forgive me when the Martha in me decided to give you just half of my attention, instead of wholehearted devotion. Help me to be more like Mary in moments like this and take the time to sit, with eyes and heart fully focused on you. Then I can make the rice and watch it with a grateful heart knowing that when it is cooked, I can sit down and give thanks to you who provides it. Amen.
On wearing masks – I wear masks not out of fear, but out of love.
On autumn – Autumn came quickly it took me by surprise!
On the need to wait – To wait with patience is an act of love.
On walking – Some of the funniest conversations I’ve had were during the times I was walking. Alone.
On the two shortest verses of the Bible – “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35) and “Rejoice always! (1 Thessalonians 5:16) And I always thought there was only one!