Poetry comes naturally
Like water from a spring
Allows me think things through
And cogitate most things

Okay am I in a one to one
But in a group do fail
My thoughts just split and splinter
And often get derailed

That being what I’ve found for me
A few minutes set aside
To put down into metered verse
An introduction to provide

I share myself as process
In the throws of each new now
But shy from inquisitions
They’re uncomfortable somehow

In the job I do each day
Conversations do transpire
Words seem to fill the space
As each moment seems require

As far as who I am in life
Or why I might be here
. . . A Spirit dressed in human form
As a female is quite clear

The minister peaked my interest
With the interpretation of ‘The Word’
The disciples at a loss
When it was Jesus they had heard *1

And how it is we miss him too
When its with others that we meet
Ignoring what they have to bring
As with distractions must complete

In his words, a comfort
Or, my interpretation as may be
But I’m here to follow up
And see if you’re right for me

Religion, as is practiced now
Is enculturation of the Soul
Entrapping it into a context
And providing it a role

Here I heard a different song
And one I could abide
God expressing through each of us
As an ever-present guide

So, if I meet your standard
Perhaps you’ll get to know
Who I am and what I think
As our relationship begins to grow

9/2/14
2:49 pm – 3:10pm

*The Road to Emmaus, Luke 24:13-36

[Note: I think this was written after visiting a church in Farmerville.
It seems like in one of the after service rituals of meeting people,
someone began interrogating me. This poem, not delivered, was just
suggesting that sometimes it takes a while to reveal or unfold. The
conversations that I have with clients are spontaneous, not agendized. I
enjoyed the Pastor; but he wasn’t always there. He was uplifting, his
replacement made you feel like you needed to be whipped for being born. It
was an amazing contrast.