The Fig Tree

In Sunday School I learned about the big red apple of original sin in the garden. How Adam and Eve ate thereof. Caste out. Ashamed. Hid from God. What I didn’t learn— it was really a fig. They ate a few. Clothed themselves in fig leaf. Hid from God. Caste out. Separated from God. How Jesus went to the fig tree for food and finding none, he said, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again!” Explanation mark. A curse that lifted a curse. And the tree withered and died.

Jesus new Adam

the sin of man forgiven

reunite with God

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NaPoWriMo Day 29 prompt on curses.

The Fig Tree

This is how the end comes

This is how the end comes.

It is wrapped in silver like a gift.

The gift is most welcome,

eager to see what is inside.

Inside was not what I wanted.

It was full of memory.

Each memory had a story.

They played inside my head.

The head was filled with irrelevance,

as I sought for the divine.

What could be more sought after

than a life of heartfelt love?

In love with the only One—

this is how the end comes.

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NaPoWriMo Day 27 prompt to write a duplex sonnet.

This is how the end comes

Christ’s Entry

I can’t really say I loved him. Love does not come easy for me. He was my first kiss, a little bit of making out, kind words from his thin lips.

I went on to guard the pool, to save a life, my tanned olive skin a beacon for men. Then one day a man walked through the gate and I watched his choppy strokes across the water and married him.

We vowed to love art. To make art out of our lives. We traveled both locally and abroad but that huge painting on the Getty wall stays with me— Christ’s Entry into Brussels in 1889 by James Ensor.

When will He come?

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NaPoWriMo Day 21 prompt— a person forgotten, a job taken, a memorable piece of art, an unanswerable question

https://smarthistory.org/ensor-christs-entry/

Christ’s Entry

My Dog at the Church Picnic

I am one of those people

who take their dog anywhere they can

especially to an outdoor venue—

Easter Sunday to a church picnic

on a beautiful sunny day

and all is well

until the pastor’s dog

meets my dog

and all hell breaks loose

(cuz my dog doesn’t like other dogs)

and my dog looks like the biggest sinner

snarling at the cute little white puff ball

the pastor’s dog so calm and composed

my dog lunging on his leash

head low to the ground

more snarls and lunges

sudden forward thrust of his body

paws extended outward to attack

serene picnic eating interrupted

all eyes on the snarly sinner

when I pull him back

tell him what a bad dog he was

no treat or reward for this behavior

then I forgive him his sin

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NaPoWriMo Day 17 prompt to write about a dog.

My Dog at the Church Picnic

Coming In

My daughter loved the book of poetry Where the Sidewalk Ends. She took it to bed. Nestled in those pages was the line “If you are a dreamer, come in.” by Shel Silverstein.

I remember the dreams I had for me and I remember the dreams I had for you. Not just ordinary ones like getting a good grade in school or going to a fine university, living in a two story house or taking a trip to Greenland. Not the dream to be a poet or magician or architect. My dreams concerned paradigms, broader in scope than world peacekeeping or disarmament. I dreamt contentment for us all, lack of greed and pride, love of the human race, coming in together.

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dVerse prosey prompt on Shel Silverstein quote from his poem Invitation.

Coming In