pictured words

February 22, 2026

Sisters in Service, Walk Proud

Sisters in Service, Walk Proud

There are those who travel
because they have the desire
and the means.

There are those who travel
because they have the need to escape
with no means.

And there are those who travel
because duty calls them …
and this means they must.

These are the sisters who, steadfastly,
walked in service to our country.
They served intentionally.
Honorably. Sacrificially. Heroically.

Love of their homeland drove them.
The road they chose wasn’t easy,
nor was it safe.

It was demanding.
Challenging. Grueling. Trying.

It took discipline. Heart. Courage. Resilience.
A willingness to be at risk,
knowing they will likely be unacknowledged
and unseen, as had their sisters before them.

They chose this road not for glory,
but for the betterment of
the land and people they love.

And this road they’ve chosen
is one they themselves built
with broken ceiling’s glass.

© Marie Elena Good, 2026

It was my honor to read this poem at the Women Veterans retreat sponsored by American Legion Post #587 and Women Veterans Initiative yesterday, (February 21, 2026). It was humbling being in the presence of these women.

February 22, 2026

Alysa Liu

Alysa Liu

Proud daughter of a
political refugee,
gold wasn’t her goal.

Those who’d see her worth
only through a gold medal,
wouldn’t see her worth.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

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February 8, 2026

Five Hygge

Trust sweater weather
for steamy mug of tea
and warm conversation.

Affecting music
even with no lyrics, moves
the coldest of hearts.

Winter Olympics,
please bring earnest empathy
nation-to-nation.

Mittens are better
for keeping fingers warm,
for they get to cuddle.

Each winter, our birds
follow suet meals with a
preheated bird bath.

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February 1, 2026

Todays and Tomorrows are Made of Moments

Todays and Tomorrows are Made of Moments

I hail tomorrow
as if this day I have is
not nearly enough.

Or dread tomorrow
as if this day I am in
is all that matters.

Lord help me embrace
the moments and hours of now,
before time slips by.

Help me spend my time
in ways that venerate You.
Not frivolously.

Not indifferently.
Kindly. Considerately.
In lockstep with You.

#seventeenintwentysix

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January 18, 2026

“We have only today. Let us begin.” ~ Mother Teresa

You know the saying: “There aren’t enough hours in a day.” For me, it seems true. Whether I’m swamped or have a relatively clear schedule, tasks sit languidly. Then there’s, “God gave them more than 24 hours in a day.” This isn’t a saying. It is simply what my husband and I tell each other regarding a few people we intimately know. These are people whose eyes appear to focus on the manifold good God seems to ask of them. Their hands and feet don’t falter. They accomplish more in one day than I do in perhaps a month. Evidently time is of no concern when motivated hearts are in sync with God’s own.

“She would have helped
had she but found the time,”
the saddest stone cries.

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January 10, 2026

I am not there

I Am Not There

I am not there, where you are.
I try to understand through your eyes.
Through your heart.
But I am not there, where you are.

Sometimes I think, perhaps, maybe
we are experiencing life
in multiverse.

I am not convinced it even exists.

But
I am not there, where you are.
I look at what you look at,
but I don’t see what you see.
I listen to what you listen to,
but I don’t hear what you hear.

And you are not here, where I am.
You look at what I look at,
but you don’t see what I see.
You listen to what I listen to,
but you don’t hear what I hear.
You are not here, where I am.

And I am not there.

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January 4, 2026

TWO DOORS DOWN

Mom and Dad used to live
two doors down from us.
Some mornings
Dad would walk over,
sit down for a cup of coffee
and a few laughs.

Eventually, coffee became
an excuse for a talk.
For questions.

One day his question was,
“Will you keep this in a safe place for me?”
He opened a tiny matchbox-sized box,
pulled out a piece of paper that was
folded, and folded, and folded, and
he read it to me.
It was a poem. The first he’d ever written.
He was a young boy, and it was to his dad
who had unexpectedly passed.
I watched him fold and fold and fold
and carefully put it back in the box
while I pondered why suddenly,
after close to 7 decades,
did he need me to keep it safe for him?

One day his question was
from his doctor:
“Do you have a plan in place for if
she becomes violent?”

One day his question was,
“Do you think I need to worry
about her beginning to wander?”

One day his question was,
“What will I do
the day we wake up
and she doesn’t know me?”

Two doors down from us,
Mom and Dad used to live.

Mom passed February 9, 2018. Dad passed 35 days later. They were interred together on September 8, 2018 — the anniversary of their wedding.

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December 21, 2025

POSSIBLE PONDERINGS OF A CARPENTER NAMED JOSEPH

“But when he had thought this over, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the Child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit.’” ~ Matthew 1:20

“ … an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” ~ Matthew 2:13-15

POSSIBLE PONDERINGS OF A CARPENTER NAMED JOSEPH

God gifted me a mind to work with wood,
which business customers respect, it seems.
I’ve taught my son my craft since his boyhood,
but never spoke about my angel dreams.

The default mind of carpentry is ruled.
It’s symmetry. It’s slated, and exact.
A carpenter is practiced, skilled, and schooled.
I see in my own son much more than that.

I cannot count the multitude of times
these angels’ words return to haunt my mind.
My years have not played out in paradigms —
my anchor-bolted views left far behind.

I cannot say I’ve understood the role
as asked of me by Mary, or by God.
I’ve questioned in my heart and in my soul,
if Mary’s story was a mere façade.

Though some advised me, “Have her put away,”
I knew the horrid fate she would have faced.
I could not stand the thought that they may slay
the one whose love and life I have embraced.

But, truth-be-told, it’s turned me inside-out,
accepting what the angels showed to me.
I sometimes wish I’d chosen my own route,
but then I look around me and I see:

The pureness of a son we can’t explain.
His understanding of the ancient scrolls.
An innate wisdom he could never feign.
We’re wholly humbled to accept our roles.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

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December 7, 2025

WOODLAND

Woodland

A forest of hardwood and pine
whispers calm to my soul
as we stroll its quiet path of leaves
and fine needles
with the occasional call
of small birds,
conversation of crows,
or tune composed of
breeze strumming the trees
to the rhythm of woodpecker’s tap,
even as our own whispers overlap
woodland’s song —
one I wish to carry lifelong.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

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November 30, 2025

ERIE’S GALE

Photo by David Corliss

Wind gusts at fifty
wreaked havoc on her for hours.
So she said, “Enough,”

and she up and left,
carrying all she calls hers
to Buffalo’s banks.

Her now-vacated
western shore gets foot traffic,
sans ruby slippers.

© Marie Elena Good, 2025

1 Comment