Today’s prompt is to write a haunted poem.
Everything leaves its imprint,
like the stain of a leaf long-gone to soil
which moldered on the concrete walk
leaving its shadow for another season’s grace.
Your very atoms press against the air,
push through the space around you.
Why should the sense of you be gone
when you are gone? Why shouldn’t your image
remain behind to haunt the space you filled?
When you turn a corner you will see them,
in those rooms you inhabit inside your soul,
shifting lights and shadows,
mirages or reflections.
Listen for the whispering:
“I was here. I will always be here.”
1. Richard Rohr. Remember, it’s about grace.
2. The Subversive Jesus. Who is throwing stones?
3. Earthshine. Have you seen how we light up the moon, even when she is only a sliver?
4. Meeting the day.
5. You. How you receive the world with open arms. How you do not judge the worthiness of others or separate people into categories or close doors to keep some out and to lock others in. How you remind me that there are still people who walk in the way of grace.
May we walk with Great Grace.