Miracles! So many other poems came to me today, but this one kept coming back as we walked along the James River while we visit friends in Richmond, Virginia. Watching my mom watch Oral Roberts on tiny black and white TV in the early sixties, waiting for her miracle but always knowing it would not come through this brand of self-serving spiritual delusion. This is for you, Mom, Mary Carol Fitzsimmons Wood, (1921-1994).
Miracles
We live in age of miracles,
I have heard it said.
Perhaps it is time to redefine what a miracle is and means.
My mother in the sixties watching smooth tongued slick eyed charlatan preacher,
touch someone on the forehead and have them jump out of their wheel chair,
throw down their crutches, dance a jig for Jesus.
Send money and you too can have this miracle.
I watched my mother look on and wonder “what about me?”
body beaten and battered and crippled by car accident at 16,
pain every day inside and out, waiting for a miracle.
That miracle never arrived, just like God turning away
from the prosperity prophets and artificial healers,
caught in a selfish cycle of me and me,
only able to see the world with “I” at the center.
Our miracles came in waves and wisdom,
The song of the bluebird after my brother died,
A flower blooming in toxic, poisoning soil,
Adversaries laying down weapons saying, “no more.”
I’ve stopped looking for miracles,
and they seem easier to find.
These words on fire lighting up the page,
new friends sharing the center of their hearts,
wisdom poets creating lines of love in every stroke.
I was thinking of this word when reflecting on the word yesterday, Magic, and when I awoke this morning. I like your raising of the everyday miracles that are often sustaning for my total being.
I’ve been mentally blocked for weeks.
The air stagnant above the oven
as I wait for everything
bagels to prove a second time,
keeping hands busy keeps panic busy
creating scenarios of what I will do
when the writing returns.
Maybe I’ll eat with ink-dyed hands
instead of blank pages.
Maybe, by some miracle,
I won’t have any time
to bake at all.
Who Gets the Miracle?
It’s a miracle they say.
The treatment healed the scans revealed
All traces of cancer are gone.
It’s a miracle they say.
Despite the wreckage they walked away
From the accident without harm.
But what of those I say
Whose disease consumes their bodies
That fade before their loved ones eyes?
What of those I say
Who don’t survive the accident
And leave this world without goodbyes?
Were they unworthy, did they not pray?
Was God fresh out of miracles that day?
If I were in charge of miracles,
I’d hand them out more freely.
So that everyone got their miracle
Of love or life or healing.
Karri Temple Brackett
May 22, 2023
Miracle
as I await a miracle
equal to the
burning bush .
not consumed
by the fire
a voice calling out
from within it
I await this same voice
guiding me to
what is next
but still nothing
what can I do?
my choice
to pray
to study
to grow
it is in that growing
I am gaining sight
at not only
the suffering within me
from too much trauma
but more importantly
the suffering around me
seeing the trauma
and pain
the things that cause us
to look away
I now see
I can truly be
a theologian and scholar
a pastor and priest
a poet and prophet
which are meaningless
unless I am also
the miracle
that sees
those unseen by society
that gives voice
to the voiceless
that empowers
the powerless
that gives dignity
to the outcast
that loves
the "unlovable"
I am to be the miracle
in small ways
every chance I get.
How many people stand by
waiting for miracles
instead of being
the miracle?
.
I have heard
that Jesus
built from scratch
healed the sick
fed the hungry
restored life
changed the world -
miraculous
.
the hands and feet of Jesus
were never idle
or complacent
or complicit
.
our very existence
our every moment
is a miracle
and we already
have the power
to build
to heal
to feed
to restore
to create change.
.
I'm not sure I believe in God
but I believe in us.
A staff meeting eavesdrop:
"Miracles???
Matt? John? Tom? Judas?
That's the hook I need?"
"Yeah, boss,
Water to wine,
Heal some sick, raise some dead folks.
Cast some demons into pigs.
That'll pack 'em in.
Then you teach.
It'll be great."
"OK. let's roll with that.
Good meeting, guys"
MIRACLE
The beauty of living
is that there are miracles everywhere
Simply...
In the birdsong I hear
every morning
Bees getting drunk on
various sweet nectars
Bursting deep purples
from the irises in the garden
Trees swaying along with the breeze
inviting me to dance along
Miracles also come in unexpected
ways…
In the resilience
I learn with every challenge
The growing capacity to
feel all my feelings without judgment
The willingness to be vulnerable
when I am trying something new
To not hide away under the bedsheets
when I am called to simply love
Then, when I can’t do any of the above
to know that with every tumble there is a rise
Life, creativity, love, breathing…
You and me, this planet…
Numinous miraculous expressions
Hafiz saved my life
with a poem
no word of a lie it was
miraculous intervention
from 600 years past in a
language beyond comprehension
translated with a
nudge and a wink
waiting in a book on
a coffee table in
my sister's house
.
picking up "The Gift"
and opening to a
random page 'God's Bucket'
poured out and
doused this utterly
bereft grieving father with
graced hope beyond measure
I caught a glimpse of a
different story than I was
trapped in a world of possibility
when all I saw before me
was impending and expedient
death
.
I am here to tell
you this because Hafiz
wrote a poem and
poems create worlds
and I needed a new place
to call home
Miracles! So many other poems came to me today, but this one kept coming back as we walked along the James River while we visit friends in Richmond, Virginia. Watching my mom watch Oral Roberts on tiny black and white TV in the early sixties, waiting for her miracle but always knowing it would not come through this brand of self-serving spiritual delusion. This is for you, Mom, Mary Carol Fitzsimmons Wood, (1921-1994).
Miracles
We live in age of miracles,
I have heard it said.
Perhaps it is time to redefine what a miracle is and means.
My mother in the sixties watching smooth tongued slick eyed charlatan preacher,
touch someone on the forehead and have them jump out of their wheel chair,
throw down their crutches, dance a jig for Jesus.
Send money and you too can have this miracle.
I watched my mother look on and wonder “what about me?”
body beaten and battered and crippled by car accident at 16,
pain every day inside and out, waiting for a miracle.
That miracle never arrived, just like God turning away
from the prosperity prophets and artificial healers,
caught in a selfish cycle of me and me,
only able to see the world with “I” at the center.
Our miracles came in waves and wisdom,
The song of the bluebird after my brother died,
A flower blooming in toxic, poisoning soil,
Adversaries laying down weapons saying, “no more.”
I’ve stopped looking for miracles,
and they seem easier to find.
These words on fire lighting up the page,
new friends sharing the center of their hearts,
wisdom poets creating lines of love in every stroke.
What a miracle.
Miracles
Our neighbors, the weeds
keep me company as I walk
round and round
the field below our house.
The weeds teach me so much.
Despite attempts at
eradication and
elimination,
their resilience keeps
them standing.
These wild things
will be walked on,
trampled,
kicked,
and ignored;
excavated,
dumped,
and even bulldozed over,
but they will come back
when it’s time.
These determined beauties
push their way up
even through cracked walks
and paved paths
and rugged rocks
and hardened soil
and still are able to
hold their heads up high
as if to say,
“We’ll go
and we’ll grow
even where it seems
impossible.”
They’ll turn their faces
to the sun
and do their thing
according to the season.
And whether anyone
truly values what
they have to give,
they’ll keep on giving anyway.
I think the weeds
are the true miracles.
I could say I have never seen a real miracle -
Water into wine
Calming the storm
Raising from the dead
But I have lost count of the
myriad of minor miracles
of moments of joy
of surprising solutions
of answers to desperate prayers
which for me are the very fabric
of the miracle of life itself
Miracle
.
It’s not miracle,
But miracles
The fact that we can expect them
That we can expect them often
The fact that it’s more than just a phenomenon
Singular
But a way of living
The fact that miracles live among us
Doting, waiting, anticipating
The fact that if they come again and again,
They must be alive
Roaming the world far and wide
With minds and ideas of their own
The fact that their abundance makes them a population -
There are dogs, cats, fish, and sheep
And miracles
And maybe,
If they’re alive,
If they have minds of their own
If they are a distinct species,
We can befriend them,
Seriously, attentively, wholeheartedly.
If we can know not to hold anything back,
Maybe they would call us
Miracle whisperers.
It’s not just miracle,
But miracles,
Because you believe,
Because you see the morning dew on little flowers,
Because you see soft noses twitch in slumber,
Because you see round pegs fit into square holes and build castles,
Because you taste fruit so sweet it makes you cry
And you hear music so soulful your own heart bursts to join it.
Because you see how much we love each other.
Because we found each other in the first place.
Because you can be still
And listen.
Listen,
Even now, perhaps you can hear
The subtle winging of our miracles
As they fly gaily through the air.
My cat peed inside the litterbox,
My niece rode her bike 3 miles.
I sat in the recliner with a cat,,
And allowed myself a Sabbath rest.
All are miracles.
I was thinking of this word when reflecting on the word yesterday, Magic, and when I awoke this morning. I like your raising of the everyday miracles that are often sustaning for my total being.
“The growing capacity to feel all my feelings without judgment “ This is the one . Thank you for adding the “growing capacity “ part.
Miracles free us
beyond comprehension to
expand in mystery
Oh Kaitlin, this poem is also incredibly stunning. No words, just thank you, so much <3