When the Dark Clouds

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

When the dark clouds lay thick

before you and the wind has

lifted your hair and taken it

someplace wild, do nothing.

Be no one known.

What has happened is moving

on to new horizons. What remains

are the desires withstood and

all the unfinishedness that will

see you through to the next day.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Truth and Beauty: Poems on the Nature of Our Humanity"

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The Creator

Photo: (c) The Daily Progress

What we bring into existence is

a celebration of the Spirit that moves

us into and through this short-lived

world. May it be joyful. And, may it

learn from joylessness to be

joyful still.

Don’t waste your time here my

dears. Don’t give it over to another.

There’s something to be done

with it that is beautiful, that praises,

that brings Heaven to Earth and

Earth to Heaven.

Be the creator. Adorn your life.

Adorn Life. Use your hands as the canvas

and as the worker of the canvas. We

must have brushes with life that break

the heart and mend it just so much.

I’m telling you to do things that others

might find daring and dismissable. So,

be stubborn about it if you have to. You

must attend to the Divine in your own way.

Don’t negotiate your soul’s longings.

Once I biked across the great terrain of pain

in little more than shorts and a halter top,

but, dear Lord, so much came of it and

still remains a manifest blessing.

I’m asking you to be true to what draws forth

smiles and laughter, to that which cherishes

and honors relationship. That’s the communion.

That’s what creates belonging and restores faith

when imperfections teach us about our humanity.

I think there is something too to be said about

singing, about how we use our voices to rejoice.

We shouldn’t get comfortable with being off key.

We must keep asking ourselves to align with

notes that are true to the heart’s intent, and

to that which inspires the heart.

The same can be said about the way we play

and about being stylish. Every act is an act

of worship, or it should be. Why be subtle about

it or satisfied with indifference? There should be

expectations of glory. The Creator never does

away with his good creation. Why not? Because

it’s no longer his. Good creations are claimed

away from us. They have things to do.

That’s gospel. That’s what there is to teach. And,

it’s with our lives that we do the teaching. So,

with all that said, I’m going to leave you with

this:

Even in our most brokenness, the choices

are always ours to make. May at least one of them

be about a love that goes on creating.

Hmmm.

© 2019/Jamie K. Reaser

In celebration of Eloise Gardiner Giles

June 9, 1921 to April 16, 2019

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Wings

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Who are we on the other side

of ourselves when nothing

is recognizable?

I had names, places, and

stories. They seemed like

important things, then.

What love outlasts loss?

What love emerges after

it all?

The very same feet that are

walking away are walking

toward, something.

Oh, but there are these

wings.

© 2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Truth and Beauty" (a work in progress)

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Get Your Feet Wet

Art: Mark Collins
https://markcollinsfineart.com/

Life requires us to get our feet wet. It’s

an ongoing process, like it or not, of

trying something new and deciding

what it makes of us:

First steps

First words

Peas

At some point, a first kiss.

It’s an aspect of living. Actually, I think

it’s the difference between living and

living a life. 

So, what does one make of a box turtle

standing in a big puddle left by days of rain?

Certainly, you can conclude, she knows that

she was designed to be a terrestrial thing.

There are at least twenty-five years of

this understanding inscribed on her back.

So, is it possible that she’s simply getting

her feet wet? Maybe she wanted to try on

what it’s like to be a pond turtle? Maybe

a duck? An otter, perhaps.

Good for her, I think.

And, I also think, wouldn’t it be nice to

imagine that tomorrow she tries out

something else totally new to her?

Wild.

I think she will.

(c) 2019/Jamie K. Reaser
From a book collaboration in progress with artist Mark Collins

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A Time to Rest

Art: Mark Collins
https://markcollinsfineart.com/

Her beak, tucked under thick wing.

Her eyes, shut to daylight.

The spring-sweet magnolia and

hemlock boughs holding space.

~

We must give ourselves permission to rest,

to engage with the gentleness of spirit

that resides in that place between doing

and being. Softly. Shhhh. Quiet now.

Nothing is wrong. Let it alone. All of it.

You have already been there and made

your way here. Let quietude provide

cover and be your attentiveness.

Here is exhaustion’s antidote.

Here is blessed resilience.

Here is the imagination looking

out and looking in for that which

will restore the whole heartedness

necessary for your next rising.

I can promise you that there is something

alive in this black-lit void just waiting

for all of the other voices to fall silent so

that you will meet your next breath,

and love yourself again.

~

I didn’t disturb her, the owl.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From a book collaboration project with artist Mark Collins

A Time to Rest was exhibited in the Leigh Yawkey Woodson 

Art Museum’s 44^th annual Birds in Art show

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When the Fires Dance

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

When the fires dance, know

that I am the maiden skipping

round with lilac flowers in my

long hair. “Beloved, I am here”, is

my young body’s verse, innocent

of long days and dark nights.

Dance with me. Welcome the

sun. Kiss the moon. Leaves

are on the branches and life

is rising. You, I’m calling to you.

When the fires dance, know

that I am your sister in spirit

and practicality, hand in hand

weaving the ribbons that bind

us one to the other and all.

How lovely this that we are.

Dance with me. Welcome the

sun. Kiss the moon. Leaves

are on the branches and life

is rising. You, I’m calling to you.

When the fires dance, know

that it is my face you see

in the shadows, heart turned

always toward the light. That

which flickers in illusion is

the future we live and share.

So, dance with me. Welcome the

sun. Kiss the moon. Leaves

are on the branches and life

is rising. You, I’m calling to you.

When the fires dance, know

that I am still among the flames,

lifting into the next day. Never

does a soul rest that speaks

with truth’s tongue. Ears

must be prepared to listen

to beauty.

Please, dance with me. Welcome

the sun. Kiss the moon. Leaves

are on the branches and life

is rising. You, I’m calling to you.

Dance with me. Welcome the

sun. Kiss the moon. Leaves

are on the branches and life

is rising. You, I’m calling to you.

~ Jamie K. Reaser,  Author

From "The Song Book" (a work in progress)
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Waiting Patiently

Art: Mark Collins
https://markcollinsfineart.com/

Patience comes to those who have learned

the value of a thing: a seed or a beloved.

It’s some set of bones saying,

“I know your worth,”

and never stepping back from the heart’s

placement on what could be but isn’t, yet.

In this hurried world, patience is a living

life declaring:

“There is something dear to wait for,

to still for. I will. I am. Until the time is right,

and then—oh, my deep desire.”

~

The cardinal happened to be on a branch above

the feeder, looking down, waiting patiently,

but he could have been there watching the love

of his life, below, scratching in old oak leaf litter,

not yet aware of their springtime unfolding.

Would it have mattered? I couldn’t have

faulted him for either:

Black oil sunflowers

Anticipated devotion

~

What’s interesting to me about patience

is how an act of nothingness prepares something

yet unclaimed to take full possession of us.

Patience is the slow welcoming of our singular

demise. Oh, excruciating bliss!

Sigh.

So, how much longer will it be before your

lips know reward?

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From a book collaboration in progress with artist Mark Collins

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