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Tag: Poetry

Mary Magdalene – My Lord

“I counted myself among those who followed you. It was said that I was but a woman and yet you welcomed me. I followed you and you spoke to me. Your words fed me, you strengthened me to stand, a woman among men, as witness.”

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from the Daily Sip: Blue Wings


This originally appeared as part of the Daily Sip, a ministry of St John’s Cathedral in Denver, CO


by Charles LaFond


Blue Wings


Wings rustle in the Advent night

of Jesus’ coming.

The Angels are restless.

They look calm

because that is there job-

serene and quiet.


But you can tell they are

nearly bursting their

white robes with excitement


Their blue wings quiver

as with a lover’s touch.


How could this be?

How could He take on the form

of a small, fleshy baby?

How could the ruler

of a cosmos become

a child with poopy-pants

and a small […]

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To: All Queer Folks Who Have Focused on Suicide

by Louie Clay

Warning: Get a large salt shaker

and sprinkle all over your CRT.

More than a grain is required.

I’m glad you’ve gotten

lots of electronic hugs

I’ll take you to lunch

if you can show up here.

But I wonder whether you need

a harder kind of support?

To the extent that the person

remains rational, and that’s difficult

to determine, suicide seems to me

the severest form of a disease

that has long infested humanity,

especially disliked minorities,

the dis-Ease called Self-Pity.

I speak with the authority of a quean.

Self-pity is the only […]

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Poetry of Louie Crew

by Louie Crew

Click on the titles to hear the poems read by Dr. Crew.

Psalm 1B

Miserable is the person who never talks with the ungodly

    who goes out of the way to avoid sinners

    who never can see life critically.

The self-righteous live by the rules of the elite,

  &nbsp and by these rules are they compulsive day and night.

They are like trees planted in a swamp, moored in every flood of fashion.

They seem to endure, and whatsoever they perform is always […]

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Dwelling in Safety: A poem from the weeks following 9/11/2001, 2001

What are we neglecting in our scrambling for assurance and safety and control? What endures? What are the lingering questions. I think the poem still captures where I am with this, though it takes on fresh irony in light of the recent damage to the Cathedral. I hope it will speak, in this 10th anniversary season, to readers of the Café

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Spirit of invention

What if the boat doesn’t float?

Sinks straight to the bottom?

And I end up with just a wet butt

And everything wasted.

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The long green season

Here on my patio

This July morning

After drenching, cleansing

Storms in the night,

I rest amid birdsong,

Surrounded in green

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The Episcopal Café seeks to be an independent voice, reporting and reflecting on the Episcopal Church and the Anglican tradition.  The Café is not a platform of advocacy, but it does aim to tell the story of the church from the perspective of Progressive Christianity.  Our collective sympathy, as the Café, lies with the project of widening the circle of inclusion within the church and empowering all the baptized for the role to which they have been called as followers of Christ.

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