Communion

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“Stop! You must curtail your bizarre behavior,”
says the man with the stick,
“You really must,” he says
adjusting his hat.

But, he’s not talking to me,
he’s talking to the creature we become—
in the stretch back to the first realm.

“Adjust behavior and commiserate elsewhere,”
says the fat man
“You really must,” he says
poking the creature’s chest.

The creature, call us Communion,
howls indignant and turns back to the wall—
string dangling from slippery hands.

“Non-compliance is unacceptable,”
shouts the rigid man,
“Unacceptable and you must stop,” he shouts
and we pay em no mind we pay em no mind.

We are disconnected from that world,
there is only blood here and glue and string—
this creation nothing else.

Endnotes

And now a YouTube Video

The Hardest Part Is People

A long time ago, stranded alone in a midwestern hellscape I never wanted to be a part of to begin with, before I hit rock-bottom, I joined a UU congregation.

One day we had a guest speaker and he laid this on us:


Dearest God:

The hardest part is people.
May we face them
without rancor or disappointment.
May we see the pain behind their actions
rather than the malice;
the suffering rather than the rage.

And in ourselves, as we struggle
with the vise of our own desires –
may we be strengthened to a quiet heart,
to a quickened empathy, to act
in gratitude rather than need.

And may we be reminded
that each time we close our hearts
to another’s, we add to the darkness;
May we be helped to always follow kindness and to always see that ours is the calling of possibilities.

Let this be our prayer, guiding us toward that which is unknown but shaped by our faith.

Amen

Lee Barker, President and Professor of Ministry at Meadville Lombard Theological School (Unitarian Universalist).

Continue reading The Hardest Part Is People

How to Blend

I make a show
of looking for a stick
and removing the mud from my feet
because that’s what normal people do

and don’t forget to stretch
people do that too
they stretch at the park
and remove mud from their feet

and you have to breathe all the time
that’s what else real human people do is breathe

The drone you ignore

I would like to register my indignation, my outrage, and my frustration to the nearest kind voice, please.

The kind voice would hear me out, much as a shadowy uniform in an alley, or a police cap silhouetted against a painted brick wall would. And either kind or abusive it always ends in handcuffs dunnit. Handcuffs and whuppings.

And always the realization the next step won’t be the last.
Always chancing closer the shadow.

To the kind abusive voice which watches on the agony and torment stiff and hard from the alleys and walls surrounding this pit I would make it known I do not appreciate the never-ending struggle.