Nov 2024
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Evidence of things not seen:
Faith. It mixes sun, moon stars, galaxies together; laughs at our definitions of ills, our calculations at insecurities. Faith eats lions, crushes dusks. It opens the Iris, and dances our feet where angels and demons fear to tread; is our basic instinct, most abused; Faith: buried under the dust of the stars we shut in… Continue reading
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Of where hell shivers
FMF WRITERS …in the yard, two little dry leaves twirl down, a path runs empty to the door where Moki was. She was fun, and then a lot of sadness, her eyes full of words she wouldn’t say.. a void staring back. But the first thing I ever noticed when we first met, was her… Continue reading
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Read your voice !
“Writers are tortured souls,” says a member, in recent Commonwealth writers circle, Asia. Enough said, be kind to the voice in you. In us. Don’t tell people who they are. Listen. Respect their lives. We live in our humilities. They can take us to other realms if we’re careful to not be self piteous, or… Continue reading
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Not-so-Passive Aggression
Last week 7 pm, we saw this young man on the sidewalk, dressed for the season, complete with red glowing horns. “Jitender Kumar,” he said his name was, when I asked him. He was selling little green umbrellas lit up for our diwali that’s just finished. We bought one of the green things, then he… Continue reading
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Cool reminders of heaven
From when I can remember, to date, I collect leaves, press them, store them like precious friends. Looking closer, its a memo into the morrow…(flowers too, but leaves!) Something about them registers as stock thought. So yes, I look for them wherever we go: a park, a hotel yard, stations here and there, our own… Continue reading
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Billy, Hussain, Theresa…but Jesu!!!?
At Amsterdam complete with windmills in green fields, Art Galleries of the greatest, Schiphol, Diamond cults and Red lights, I met The Billy Graham at a convention for Itinerant Evangelists, almost every nation on earth in that Rai Centre. My roommate, a Finnish blonde didn’t speak a word of English, so I became her aide;… Continue reading
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Bought with a Price
November is gold this morning, 6 am, every leaf, gold .. My ginger tea has pepper in it, cardamon, cinnamon, recommended by Sarti, a friend who knows about allergies, ( my allergies to all anti inflammatories, even in oils, lemon, soaps, Vitamin Cs, ugh. Ginger kills histamine but is also an anti inflammatory agent. Not… Continue reading
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Cucooned in a Praying
over and over, consumed, ejected, wrapt in a trap, shunned, broken, breaking, the spin of death, shredded, cold, hot, drenched in the ice vice grip of hurt, betrayal of our own sense, all defence taken, shaken off every last foothold, look – no feet, just a core convoluting, gone, arriving in new, formless shapelessness, the… Continue reading
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Favourites?
Hard to say. Anne Mogi was Chemistry teacher. I hated the Subject, but Mogi had drama. She made the formula of Chlorine smell like a cleaned up river! And Math of Ms. Kini- I secretly felt she could terrify God, with her hatred for anyone who didn’t know what 2356855×78754 +4543÷993 was. I got closer… Continue reading
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Unseen untouchable moments
..walking on water, sitting in the heart these moments of talking, talking to God. Continue reading
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“… if you think adventure is lethal try routine…”
“You can misunderstand this, ya?” The eyes are bright. I breathe deep and say nothing as our coffee steams in the chilly noon. “Ray, I’d die of boredom without some excitement, see…” I want to kick him. ‘Courage in the face of danger,‘ that’s what he looks like now and its messing my heart. It’s… Continue reading
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three years closer
To the Light that sows me….knows me like no other, woven in grace, an earth spinning, around a sun I try figure. Here I am though, more enabled than a universe,: what insane miracle is that – What Love is that, that’s sewn me in Him, in Him, closer, every passing moment Visual assistance :… Continue reading
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A holiday with God
a walk in the garden with Him, or in a desert, His Wisdom in my maddening questions, a chat without words, cuz words will never be enough; oh a coffee He brews for us, I’d love a holiday, with Him, a bath in His wellspring of healing, then warm up in His Light, His fountain… Continue reading
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Let November walk right in and tell you a secret
Laesa has eyes ripe as stars in the velvet sky at midnight. She is this beauty in my sill- crushed a little, worn, drying out the chill before dawn Lasea (my flowers) cannot hear unless we speak out loud, and I’m talking of external words. What Laesa hears, for real, are the things humans speak… Continue reading
