The Ekphrastic Review: writing and art on art and writing, has published my poem, “Sunday Morning.”
Let me give you a brief “back story” on this poem. Many years ago, I stopped writing completely for around twenty-five years. Total silence in my life. I don’t know why it happened, but it did. After what can only be be termed a spiritual experience on a trip to the Fijordland in New Zealand, poetry somehow magically entered my life again. I can’t explain this. It just happened, and I know it happened for a reason. This poem was the first complete poem I wrote when my poetic “voice” returned, and it’s only been read by one other person until today. It’s taken me about fifteen years to gather courage to submit it anywhere. My deepest thanks to editor, Lorette C. Luzajic, for publishing this piece.
Here is the link to the journal: http://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic/april-21st-2016
Rijksmuseum, Out the Window (c) 2013 Mary Kendall
Sunday Morning
Hymns unsung, prayers unsaid,
I sat by the window and prayed
for forgiveness one more time;
one more time I begged.
Holding the cup of coffee in my hand,
I hoped the warmth would fill me
where your words had left me cold,
but I knew nothing could do that—
fire can burn for hours and be unfelt.
Hymns unsung, prayers unsaid,
I lay down on the empty bed, pulling
the blanket across my cheek, turning
from the window, from the sky
and the sun, praying for some rest.
Note: The window in the photo is not, of course, the window of the poem. I love taking pictures of windows when I travel, especially indside looking out. This photo was taken in June 2013 when my husband and I were in Amsterdam, visiting the beautiful Rijksmuseum.
My very first tanka sequence was published in RIBBONS: Journal of the American Tanka Society, Winter 2016: Volume 12, Number 1. My thanks to editor, David Rice, for suggesting to me that these three tanka would work best in a sequence.
“Acceptance” Photograph by Iosatel (c) 2015
Should you wish to listen to the poem, click on the link below. It will take a few seconds to begin.
Acceptance
There—on the far side of memory’s window—
You stand there on the outside looking in.
Distanced, safe from the rawness of our lives,
You are given a choice whether to judge us
Now or see if we try to make amends, to heal
The hearts that have been torn at the edges,
Frayed by the refusal to forgive, and let others
Move on, a final repentance, a simple lesson
Of learning to forgive our own mistakes, our
Choices or the decisions we came to regret.
Life is not all black and white, but endless shivers
Of grey, silver, and ebony; hues of cream, ivory
And moonlight, and beautiful colors begin to bleed
Into our fabric when we accept others as they are.
Paths get worn by walking, grass just wears away.
Road crosses road, briefly intersecting, and then
Leading to new and unexplored places where
There might be answers if we put aside our slanted
Views and look well beyond our differences.
Beneath this fragile shell of life we are the same.
Why is this simple lesson so hard to learn?
Note: The main photograph (at the top of this page) used with this poem is a beautiful piece by the photographer, Iosatel. It appears on his photography blog, The Obvious and the Hidden, http://theobviousandhidden.com.
His black/white pictures are both beautiful and mysterious. Along with the intriguing pictures are his titles, which never fail to interest his many followers. This photo was entitled, “Acceptance.” It was this that began this poem. My warmest thanks to Iosatel for allowing me to use this photograph with my poem, ‘Acceptance.’
A Poet in Time 