Imagine Lisette

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another kind of church

February 14, 2011 by lisette Leave a Comment

The halls of detention
are where I come to pray.
Ushered through double locking doors
only adornment concrete walls
occasional sunlight streams
through unstained glass
a choir of guards
teachers and counselors
singing hymnals of order and rules.
The devout – lines of children
arms behind their back
shuffling in plastic shoes
I kneel in the suffering of children
prostrated in their reality.
I can’t explain easily to others
why I come here
the children are my priests
freeing me from the shackles of myself.
They don’t know
how they change me
one moment at a time
how they snap me back
into what matters.
And so I come here week after week
and hope that my prayers
are answered.

– Dedicated to the kids in King County Juvenile Detention that I have had the privilege to write poetry with.

Filed Under: poetry Tagged With: being present, juvi

morning

April 30, 2010 by lisette 1 Comment

The other day I fell in love with morning
with cool dark air turning light,
with the quiet ferns and waking birds,
with the departing moon
and the rising sun.
I fell in love with oatmeal,
brown sugar sweetness,
the miraculous explosion of tart cranberries
against the solid, smooth grains
With the way a hard-boiled egg gives way
to pressure,
it’s shell cracking under my thumb
like a round desert of dried clay.
I fell in love with hot tea,
steam curling upwards in dissipating tendrils
spicy heat sending cascading rivers of warmth
into my body.

I sat before my breakfast
and wept
from being in love with the world
rather than afraid of it.

 

Filed Under: poetry Tagged With: being present, meditation

heartbeat

January 11, 2010 by lisette Leave a Comment

In the shadows of the moon
I lean over him
my hand on his chest.
I hear the rising
and falling
of his breath.
I feel the rhythm of his heart
keeping time
to the passing moments of his life.

Love rises, like birds
from the silvery mirror
of the savannah

and I long for this heart
to beat forever.

Listen.

The instrument will fade
but the song is eternal.

Listen.

Smiling,
I open my hands
and let the sound of him

fly off

into

the night.

Published in The Raven Chronicles,
Summer 1999 South Sound Edition

Filed Under: poetry Tagged With: being present

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About Me

About

Writer, Dancer, Travel Podcaster. This is where I share some of my personal writing – poetry, articles and essays.  I hope you find something that resonates with you.

Recent Posts

  • the cowboy
  • another kind of church
  • morning
  • duel
  • heartbeat

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