Memory

From Ann Glover O’Dell’s Midwifing the Soul:

A strange phenomenon

memory

that without which life

would not be worth

the trouble to sustain

say some.

Puzzling

how together

some can witness

an event

retaining bits and pieces

perceptions and reflections

so different in recall.

The remembering almost makes

an individual

as multi-faceted as all

whose lives with that one intersected

and each left wondering

how recollection

so differing came to be.

Perhaps the psyche soul

unique to each

magnetically attracts

the details mandatory

for spirit evolution

beatifying each and all.

Character

From Ann Glover O’Dell’s Midwifing the Soul:

Dim foreshadowings afford us

early glimpses of what later

might be called good character

the strength of which was hewn

from hard fine granite

chipped away in slow

painstaken labor

certainly

not self- designed

nor requested

nor desired.

No

this surgeon artist scalpel

reconfiguring as prisoner

one who would if breaking

chains invisible were possible

bolt and leave a fiery trail

as hastily escaping such ordeal.

How daring the Designer

who mined the blocks

then saw unique form buried there

waiting to be born

and as the Master Sculptor

took full advantage of

his expertise without

apprentices employed

but in his own worn practiced hands

the ancient tools

began their sacred work.

Stigmata

From Ann Glover O’Dell’s Midwifing the Soul:

I listen with my ear

my mind

my heart.

I strain to hear

I know not what

but something from beyond

the dailyness of dull routine

where unpredictability

no audience desires

The catechesis memorized

as well as hymns and creeds

parade despite my plaintive plea.

I meditate on verb and phrase

and hope for some

resounding redolent reconfirmation

of oral apparition rare

enough to scar my brain

or stigmatize my hands and feet

to prove whatever words

some holy voice might tell me.

Perhaps if I but see or hear

or have imprinted as tattoo

a sacredness no need to prove

I would not need the sermonette

“be doers…”

 for the doing

would already be.

Who Heard God Say?

From Ann Glover O’Dell’s Midwifing the Soul:

Who heard God say

“let us make man”?

Can we be sure

that “in our image”

was not addendum

for enjoyment of

imagination of an ego

eager for some status

in the face of fearful

existential angst?

Who learned of angels

and the guarantee that

we can almost match

them in God’s hierarchy?

Is this a fable poised

like all such stories

to smudge  

the universal question marks

and make us rank ourselves

more highly than we ought?

Or set a standard of perfection

dangling always right above our reach?

There must be some fast truth

imbedded in the tale told throughout

the rounds of galaxies

and baby weaning days.

There must be more than make-believe

to stir the heart’s awakening

to a melody mysteriously

making sure we don’t

forget the humming tune

and lyrics long repeating

“fearfully…wonderfully.”