Go to the Klondike, Alyssa, Consider Her Ways and be Wise

She looks for affection and love,
and is always ready to give them.

I say the command.
She sits. She stays.
She yearns to take in the joy of the day,
to find new smells,
and to dig new holes.
Though her desire is great,
she must wait for my word of release.

She looks back at me.
"Is it time yet? Is it time?"
I see her nose beginning to twitch.
I wait one more second,
and the suspense grows thicker than her fur.

I know what's coming.
She knows what's coming.

"Okay!"

And Eager to take hold of the longed for prize,
she, the innocent,
leaps off the porch into freedom.

Ancient Life

Linger in an ancient place long enough
and it will come alive.
Stand still. Wait.
It will: it always does.
Here are memories floating weightlessly
that move like little girls' whispers
and little girls' smiles.

Do you see the women handing out
warm drinks on cold days
and cold drinks on warm days?
Do you see their tenderness--
the twinkle as they gossip lightly?

Do you hear the men bellow with laughter?
Do you hear their guffaws
as they debate local politics?
Do you see them eye their sweetheart secretly?

All these lives move through the crevices
of ruins and caves long forgotten.
Souls homed here, these carvings whisper.
What they did mattered.
Stay long enough until you hear them,
until you forget that time passes,
and remember that it breathes.
Get to know the memories,
then, for the sake of the people,
you will love the land.

A Father Waits for His Son's Return

The barren road
winds around forever.
He does not come.

I watch.
I watch while the sun moves
slowly across the horizon.

My fields burst with grain;
my vines bend with the weight of the grapes;
cows crowd the pastures:
all of it is trash.

I would trade it all 1000 times
for one glimpse of his shadow on the road.
My son, my son, do you remember me?
I am stilll here.

I will watch for the day you walk down that road.
I grow the grapes and reap the wheat
so I can fill the tables at the feast of your return.

Aragorn Waits

Copyright New Line Cinema. All rights reserved.

Arwen.
Arwen.
Arwen Undomniel.
Long years have passed;
I look far younger than I feel.
I feel cold, hard like leather,
or a stone worn down in a mountain stream.

How many nights have I laid awake in the wind?
These cloudy nights are unbearable,
and worse is seeing your star hovering above me
far beyond my reach, my embrace, my fingers.

Am I the hope my mother gave to the Dunedain?
Is there a kingdom prepared for me?
Do I have to make it myself?
I am a wanderer, not a warrior, Arwen--
a lonesome lover.
But your father says a king to come,
for you are to be no less than queen.

Arwen, you love a mortal wretch,
but love me, Wonderful, love me.
Love on, my Light, for I cannot face the darkness.
Arwen.
Arwen.
Arwen Undomniel.

I promise you, you will have your throne
beyond these evil days.
And, far away from cold winds and
harsh thoughts and loneliness,
I will have a bed of softest silk with you.

Oh, that bed is worth fighting for!
Or if I do not have the strength to raise a sword,
that bed, our bed, is worth taking my step.



Here is Tolkien's poem:

All That is Gold Does Not Glitter

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

Elijah Waits

I am a man like any other--
I saw the world in all its
beauty and terror and mystery.
And, following simple logic,
I deduced that its Designer must be
beautiful, terrible, mysterious.

So I sought Him--the Creator--
He is there to be found.
I thought,
If He commands the motion of the stars
and formed the seas,
and I am under his command,
what's to stop me from commanding the rain?

Because the Lord's people
stopped trusting in Him...again,
the rain stopped.
It seems they have not yet learned that
wickedness reaps only
emptiness. Barrenness.

Yet God is my guide.
I called off the rain:
He called in the ravens.
I wait for morning each night;
I wait for evening each day.
As faithful as the sun
are these winged servants of God.

How should I respond to such a kind Master?
I called on God to stop the rain:
He did.
So while the land groans and cries out,
I will feast on His abundance.
I will wait for Him to show me
what other words He will say
and what other wonders He will
do through me.



(In honor of the Kerith Ravine and the ravens, here is a video about Camp Cedarbrook, which used to be called Camp Cherith, where all the counselors have bird names--I'm Osprey--and sustain the campers with food and faith and fun.)

Eowyn Waits

Get up, Eowyn.
Get up.
Why?
When I open my eyes,
the room will be the same
as yesterday and yesterday's yesterday
and all the long yesterdays of my life.

Get up.
The King does not see me,
though I kneel at his feet all day;
he sees only darkness and
thinks only dark thoughts.

Get up.
I serve him soup: he does not taste.
It drips down his chin: I wipe it away.
I speak softly: he does not hear.
I hum songs: he does not move.

Get up.
Is there life left in this stone man?
Is there life left in me?
Will I ever be free of this duty?
Are all my once vivid desires of glory
as lifeless as this room?
Maybe.

Get up.
I am afraid of the cage my life has become.
But, if I stay in bed, then the bars will
surely shut down on my soul.

Get up.
I have given my life for this man.
I would--I will--give my life for this man.
I barely dare to breathe my desire that
maybe he will remember me.
Maybe today he will smile...
Yes.
That is enough of a reason to get up.

Daniel Waits

The male limps not from the hunt
but from the wet, the cold, and the darkness
of this cellar.
And the loneliness.
And the hunger.
The muscles in his massive frame have
decayed, but his teeth, though locked,
are still deadly.
He looks at me with fear,
as if I am the one with the sword
who shut his mouth.

The females watch me with hatred.
They circle around me waiting for
the word of release that will not come
as long as I am here.

The lighted warrior of my LORD
looked me in the eyes
as he shut their mouths.
And I heard the words: "Fear not."
So I did not.

The male is no longer afraid of me,
or if he is, he has submitted
to me rather than his fear.
He just lay down at my feet.

I am tired.
There's not much to do in a den.
What's to keep
me from laying my head
in his golden mane?
It is softer than my pillow.
Why not rest?
While I wait for morning's mercies,
I will sleep.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkZ8kOMWTdI

Gilbert Waits

I understand many things.
Study is easy, but fun when she,
the red-haired girl,
Anne with an E,
is there.
She's challenging. She's witty. She's impossible.
I hope she enjoys our verbal wars.
I know I do.

We plan. We try to change
little things in this little town
that's home.
She is Anne of Green Gables.
She is Anne of Avonlea.
She is Anne of the Island.

I am Gilbert of Avonlea.
Of the Island.
I remember so many details of
this woman who was once a girl.
She makes me ache.
I saw her once, the clouds parted for a moment
and I saw her heart burst through in her eyes.
I smiled:
having seen it, I had to win it.

But she loves another--
or thinks she does--
and has forgotten me.
Almost.
For a while I couldn't see her,
but now, for a split second,
I saw that spark, that flame, again.
For a moment...then it was gone.

Now I am on the hunt
to break my heart on her sweet heart
like she once broke a slate on my head.

David Waits

All alone with myself and You--
nothing but darkness in these caves--
what is there to do in these long hours?


compose songs...


cry out...


remember...


I remember the anointing.
You were there.
You told Samuel to dip his thumb in oil
and wipe my head.
I touched it.
I felt it.
I knew it.

You are not a God of broken promises.

Was I ready to take the lead?
No.
But why running?
Why does this man pursue me?
Why is he stronger, faster, more cunning?
Why? You have rejected him.
Haven't you?
I know I cannot touch him.
I cannot harm him--the Lord's anointed.

But am I not the anointed too?

I remember the smell of the giant's blood,
and how easily his head yielded to my sword.
I could touch him because he defied you
and your people.
Not Saul.
Not this man here
beside me
unwittingly giving himself into my hands.

My men do not understand.
I do not understand.
I am blind.
Everything is upside down.
Still I cannot move.

So I wait.
I wait.
I wait.
I wait for you to move.

Move swiftly LORD!
You do not change.
You have not changed:
You must be here still.
You must still be fighting for me.
Remind me again of your promise
that you are my advocate now and always.

Wait

I am waiting.

God has so many promises about waiting and I am trying to understand and believe. New words and perspectives anchor me, orient me, and push me forward. I will share some of my thoughts on the waiting game over the next few weeks.

If I know God, then this waiting game will soon change into the smiling game.

The Smile Game

Here's how it works:

God gets a point every time He makes me smile.
I get a point by writing a poem or a story in response to God's humor.

God is going to win.

Right now I am behind by seven anthologies, but I don't like to quit. I like the game. God likes the game. So we'll keep playing.

GROWN. GONE.

Remember when I was little and I found you everywhere?
You were under my pillow for tuckins.
You were waiting behind the sprinkler
to run round and round to catch me.
You sat with me and watched the day pass by
from branches high above reality.
You were my mud puddle playmate.

But now mud is mud.

I don't find the joy when it splashes me anymore.
I don't wait for you to chase me.
I don't look for you under my pillow.
I don't let you tuck me in.
I'm too busy to watch the day pass by.
I run and run to take hold of it,
but the day leaves me miles behind.
And I'm too dry and breathless to even
remember my name.
I trip, I stumble, I fall,
I bruise, I can't get up,
I can't move.

So You do.

You say my name.
And because you've found me,
the little girl's spirit
and woman's mind finally cry out:
"DadDadDadDadDad
Dad.Dad.Dad.
Daddy!"