Tuesday, May 19th, 2009...12:03 am
Paper
(For the “mask” writing prompt)
Wood-shreds, cotton, flax, grass—
Plant fibers beaten to expose
Inner life, so old life will pass
Into something new.
Water-softened, washed, mixed
Into slurry, ready to be transformed,
Made and molded, pressed and pressed.
Sheet bared to sun. Blessed
In the drying, made useful
In the drying, in the soul-exposure
To the Sun.
I have a memory; every crease remains
In me, intricate folds of experience
Shaping origami me.
He unfolds,
Some parts tucked in so tightly
I tear in the unfolding.
I tear in every unfolding
But His hand smoothes over
And I am whole.
Surrendered in the unfolding, I wait
And He writes.
Spirit-ink penetrates, bleeds
All the way through as nib makes
Graceful strokes recording on me
Flourishes of kindness, goodness,
Grace on me.

...to Know-Love-Obey God



8 Comments
May 19th, 2009 at 10:17 am
There are so many good lines here I cannot choose just a few! I love this, Monica. It makes me see, makes me feel, makes me think.
Poet-scientist, you bless with this experiment. Your words are a gift and I am thankful for the sharing!
Stay tuned til Friday…
May 19th, 2009 at 4:38 pm
So much to like here, but I especially liked the end… a nice twist on the old “shame on me”, becoming “grace on me.” Yes, I liked that a lot.
May 22nd, 2009 at 3:51 pm
I love the first four lines. Love them. Also liked this:
Spirit-ink penetrates, bleeds
All the way through
And “nib” is my new favorite word!
May 23rd, 2009 at 2:48 pm
But His hand smoothes over
May 23rd, 2009 at 8:19 pm
Love this!
“Surrendered in the unfolding…”
March 26th, 2010 at 12:14 am
[...] Paper Anniversary, I am posting one of my first blog poems, “Paper,” originally posted here. (My very first RAP is [...]
August 21st, 2010 at 2:49 pm
[...] I am the paper with such a memory and each crease is a word said to me, or a deed done by me, words and deeds, mountains and valleys that cannot be undone, I remember each one. [...]
February 12th, 2011 at 9:52 am
[...] “secretly” part, I still do) and piled those sheets in a closet shoebox. I once wrote a poem about paper, but I can’t imagine myself being inspired to write on, say, sapphires or [...]
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