"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.

Polly Alice

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Palm Sunday

Only two more days of Lent.  The forty days of fasting with Jesus in the desert are over.  Winter is buried, and Easter is around the corner.  I'm not sure this week end counts as Lent because there is Maunday Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday etc.
But just in case we need to get in one more Lent poem out of the way.  Here is an old one with the accompanying painting below. 
Of course, I sort of skipped Palm Sunday which was a few days ago: Celebrated by children for thousand of years with the waving of Palms. This is one of my favorite holidays, so I'll squeeze in an extra poem.  Jesus entered Jerusalem on the donkey on the annual celebration where children waved palms and sang Hosanna.  What a wonderful parade that must have been when the children who loved Jesus sang the song to him and all the crowd followed with the hope of crowning him king. 
I imagine there are very few people in history who didn't accept a kingship when offered one.  Jesus did.  He was already the King for a different kind of Kingdom than everyone realized--a backwards one were servants ruled through humility. 
Spring is the best time to imagine this peaceable kingdom when hope blooms everwhere.  I love the Isaiah version of the peaceable kingdom where there is so little war, every weapon is melted down and reformed into gardening tools.  And children, lion, lambs and every animal are playmates in a garden of growing

Mourning (2001)

I shaved my head to mourn
but everyone laughed.

Wondering why scars
reopen so easily
I bandage myself up again
and limp on.

Palmer  (2010)
Enter Pilgrims, Yeah, that's us--
Pilgrims in dusty boots wearing
the same dull clothes for the eighth
day in a row. Who cares that
I twisted my ankle, or a camel ate my hat.
We've got this view ahead, the wind worn smooth, and we are together.  We'll paint palms on our faces and shout Hallelujah.  We're travelers in a journey walking
Victory road on to the next pass.

Icarus (1999)

Whenever I look at this photograph,
I remember you then,
standing a quarter inch tall
on the edge of a crater,
hazy against the carmel twilight.

The Negev whispering its evening sighs
you hold your distance
sacrificing your view
to avoid the edge.

Praying that you will not hold back,
or dig in your heels,
I see you running fiercely
leaping off into the air--
the sun lighting your
determined face bronze.

As you clutch the feathers
of His wings in each fist,
you fly away grinning
like an Icarus who is certain
his father’s wings aren’t made of wax.


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