Friday, January 31, 2014

Part II

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

So I remained still,
and what found me were ghosts
wanting me to give them names.

Though they had come and lingered before,
they had never asked this of me before,
and it wasn’t hard,
it was like remembering the names
of lovers,
or the one name they shared,

and, actually, it was this,
exactly this,

and I was astonished by the profound simplicity
of it.

One ghost,
One name.

And, it wasn’t God.


I didn’t pay much attention in church growing up.
I scribbled on the yellow-toned donation slips that 
were tucked into
the back pocket of the pews.
It provided distraction from my father’s sobs and
my mother’s down-turned face,
and the shame-cast looks of those sitting in front,
and to the sides.

But that was only for one year.
The ministers didn’t want us back after he left.


I’ve been thinking on things, like:

Angler fish
and alligator snapping turtles
and venus fly traps.

In clever ways, they say:

“Come here,
I have something to offer you.”

You think it’s something good.
Something you want.
Something that will make you feel better,

and all the while they are just hoping
that you are gullible enough
to let them devour you.

It’s not personal.
It’s just what they do,
and it wouldn’t seem reasonable
to apologize for it.


And that’s when the white dove
to me,

alighted so gently within me.


She is my re-membrance of me

as something holy.


That ghost is no longer Holy.

I am.

© 2014-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
This poem follows another entitled, 'In the Morning.'
Published by Talking Waters Press
Available from and other major retailers

Feel free to share

No comments:

Post a Comment