Two Poems for a Sunday

by

by Ida Beal

 

Grace

I come across Mom’s handwriting
on the back of a photograph
a birthday card, a recipe
and feel the pull of her
Index cards faded and floury
crowded her recipe box
the red and white paint chipped
to the color of a spoon
found now in another kitchen
Kneeling at her bed every night
she said her prayers
closing out each long
day with confidence
whispering in the dark
the mysteries she knew by heart

 

Awakening

Are you new here?
I’m new here.
Looking for a church
with a good lost and found.
Where I can get credit
for my baptism, but don’t have to
believe this is actually
the body and blood.

Honest to God, I like her
tempting homilies
and as you say
the feeling of home
the feeling of family.
But I have that already
so it may not be
the appeal for me.

I suggest for
now, let’s
Bury the Alleluia
together. We
can see
what happens
then.

 

 


Ida Beal is retired, but hopefully still in the midst of her usefulness.  She is working to understand how faith currently lives in her life and her favorite quote is Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “Earth is crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God.”

 

image by Molly Wizenberg

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