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
“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.” ~ Anonymous(attributed to St. Francis of Assisi)
Sonnet for Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace
Of many writings I wish were my own,
this certainly resides among the best.
And while this poet’s name remains unknown,
their heart’s benevolence is manifest.
And oh to be an instrument of peace
And oh to harmonize with God’s great grace
No dissonance released from my mouthpiece
No notes omitted, wrestled, or misplaced
God likens clanging cymbals and loud gongs
to those who harbor hate within their soul.
I want to spill His love where there are wrongs –
the love that brings us peace and makes us whole.
Don’t want to be a cymbal or a gong –
Just long to harmonize with Him in song.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
RED (sonnet for a cabin in the woods)
We’re back in Red, a cabin we once knew.
She was the first to which we came for rest.
But then we switched to one we know as Blue.
Both feel like home, and neither one is “best.”
Nostalgia here in Red, intense and deep,
returns us to our long-forgotten years
of risky hikes (both treacherous and steep).
Our younger selves don’t hear our future fears.
Inherent wisdom fills her ancient beams.
They’ve centuries of stories, as has she.
Her cozy manner begs us (so it seems):
Speak quiet love, relax, and be carefree.
Surrounded by strong hardwood and soft fir,
Red’s presence stirs up thoughts of who we were.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
LET’S BE OPEN
Well, while our government remains shut down
and citizens debate who is at fault
and billionaires don’t lose one grain of ground,
*SNAP benefits are coming to a halt.
Our churches, mosques, and temples work to fill
the need our government’s left in its wake.
We’ll all step up to compensate — but still,
where will we find resources it will take?
We’ll find it in abundance we consume.
We’ll find the here and there that we can spare.
We’ll set our table, and we’ll make more room.
And even those themselves in need will share.
While left and right debate who is at fault,
the poor among us feel the full assault.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
*Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program
“For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.” ~ Jesus of Nazareth
THE POET
In the beginning,
The Poet spoke creation
into being. He,
along with His Son,
effortlessly began all
with only Their voice.
All that is, was, or
ever will be, was simply,
easily, declared.
All creation sings.
It even began with song.
Now THAT’s poetic!
© Marie Elena Good 2025
As for me, this is the desire of my heart: “And I’ll be the poet who sings your glory – and live what I sing every day.” ~ Psalm 61:8
“The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.” ~ Job 38:4
Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, and the Song of Solomon are poetry books in the Bible. If you believe, as I do, that the Bible is the inspired word of God, God is a poet! I LOVE that!
The Sound of English as a Second Language
They come from situations we’ve only read about, and chosen to distance ourselves from. They’ve faced profound persecution, violence, starvation, and unfathomable humanitarian crises. They seek the simple: Clean water, food, education, a roof, a measure of safety, a measure of acceptance, a measure of stability. They listen. They strain. They try to understand us. They study to learn our language, so they might be able to communicate their needs. Desires. Gratitude. Humor. Life.
Some hear broken English.
I hear the flawless sound
of resilience.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
They come
from distant lands,
escaping war,
famine, natural disaster,
unlivable conditions, persecution,
economic instability, etc.
They arrive
carrying whatever they can.
Perhaps a photo or two.
A key to a house
that may no longer exist.
Only the clothes on their backs.
One very dear Syrian friend had to leave
suddenly. Flee.
Her family,
in the middle of a meal,
left pots and plates of food
years ago.
Ukrainian friends we now consider family
arrived with one school-type backpack
for their family of four.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Some aren’t even that lucky.
Dowla chose one item to bring:
A wooden pole, balanced on her shoulders,
with which to carry
her six children
when they tired of the 10-day walk from Sudan
to a refugee camp in South Sudan.
Aboubacar fled Mali on a donkey cart
with his wife and two children.
The one item he chose to bring?
His goat.
“The goat brings me hope, joy, and a sense
that things can change for the better.”
After dealing with several months of air raids,
Magboola and her three children finally left Sudan
the night soldiers came and opened fire.
The most important item she chose to carry:
a small cooking pot.
It could be easily carried,
and used to feed her children.
102-year-old Omar is blind.
His item of choice was his lati
(his walking stick).
“If I hadn’t had my lati,
I would have crawled to Bangladesh.”
The situation in the village he loved,
yet had to flee,
was dire.
The journey,
unimaginably hard.
A quote I relish from him is this:
“If you laugh, others will laugh with you.
And if you stop laughing, you will die.”
Elizabeth fled war in Angola.
52 years later, she still struggles
with the feeling of not having a real home.
The one item she still has with her
is her Bible.
“In this world, bad things happen,
but in the Bible you can find words which help you.”
The stories
are endless
unimaginable
heartbreaking
staggering
awe-inspiring.
The people
are strong
courageous
thankful
giving
hopeful,
in spite of it all.
It is my honor and great blessing
to look into the eyes of those
I am privileged to personally know.
To hear their stories.
See their smiling eyes.
Feel their arms around me.
Their kisses on my cheeks.
To taste their food.
Receive their time
and their love.
THEY
are life-enriching.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
(Stories of those I don’t personally know are from UNHRC. The photo I chose is from Pexels.com.)
Of Stars and Little Ones
O sweet little one,
you’ve reached as high as you can,
but can’t touch the stars.
But don’t you worry.
All this talk of reaching for them
is just that: talk.
You don’t have to strive.
Just “be,” little one. The same
God who made the stars
and gave them their names
and placed more than we can see
more than we can count
in a universe
He made, in a space and time
only He can know …
This very same God
made and intimately knows
you too, little one.
He knows you by name.
He knows the exact number
of hairs on your head.
You’re more precious than
all the stars he knows and named —
billions and billions.
Listen, little one,
you don’t have to reach the stars.
God made you higher.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Hundreds of billions
of stars in the universe
pale when compared to
the tens of trillions
of nonexistent dollars.
American debt.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
one trillion = 1,000 billion
Perrysburg Mercy Health
Thursday July 29, 2025
Keith experienced
classic heart attack symptoms.
Said, “Call 911.”
Very unlike Keith,
and so he didn’t have to
tell me more than once.
A look and some tests
showed no sign of heart attack.
Phew! But what happened?
July 31, 2025
Back in the E.R.
for STAT echo with contrast.
This, our new St. Luke’s?
Medical Test Findings:
He is well nourished.
His reproductive organs?
* Unremarkable.
August 2, 2025
Gallbadder all along?
Back in the E.R.
More tests have resulted in
admission. Thankful.
August 3, 2025
6:46 a.m.
Spoke with Keith’s nighttime
nurse. He slept well. Still no word
on surgery time.
Afternoon
No surgery yet.
First will come more heart tests, then
gallbladder comes out.
August 4, 2025
9:30 a.m.
Nuclear stress test
(a four-hour test) followed by
an echo-something
8:00 p.m.
A 30-minute
gallbladder removal turns
into two hours.
Anterior wall
is the only thing removed.
The remainder is
too attached to the
liver. Apparently they’re
inseparable.
August 5, 2025
11:30 a.m.
After not eating
since 5 p.m. August 3,
Keith is transported
to St. Charle’s to have
surgery 2 in two days –
needs a bile duct stent:
another 30-
minute procedure that took
about two hours. Ugh …
5:00 p.m.
Keith is returned to
his first hospital in far
worse shape than he left.
Suffice it to say,
two surgeries in two days:
zero of ten stars.
After forty-eight
hours of no food or water,
and overheated,
there was ice water
for his throat, behind his neck,
on his head, and chest.
But other than that,
he didn’t want to be touched
not even by me.
He was beyond hot
(take that in every way)
and who could blame him?
August 6, 2025
Now his pancreas
has become enraged. Numbers
have skyrocketed:
Lipase, which should be
between zilch and one sixty
is at three thousand.
Other lab numbers
are also out-of-whack. So,
no discharge today.
Clear liquid diet
is better than nothing, right?
“Nothing” went too long.
August 7, 2025
FINALLY some FOOD!
He had flat, unseasoned eggs
that he loved, loved, loved!
Improving numbers
bring hope again for discharge.
Nope. Safer to stay.
August 8, 2025
Finally discharged!
Though he is still battling pain
and unwell feelings:
He paused at the door
and sighed deeply as he stepped
inside the kitchen,
slowly walked each room,
taking in the sight and scent
and feeling of home –
mentioning details,
like the way the sun glistens
on the wooden floors,
and the beauty of
the hydrangea tree that
graces our window.
We both recognize
how grateful we should be in
the midst of hardship.
We have access to
a clean, modern hospital
filled with good people
who take pride in what
they do – from the surgeons, to
the NPs, RNs,
doctors, LPNs,
those who prepare the food, and
those who bring the trays,
the housekeeping staff,
the various technicians,
and those we don’t see.
The warm smiles and waves.
The patience for their patients.
The words of comfort.
None of these details
went unnoticed, and all were
appreciated.
(c) Marie Elena Good 2025
* Keith laughed hysterically over this aspect of his test results report! HA!
This, not really poetic, is an accounting of this event in the lives of my husband and me. I like to write 5/7/5-syllable poems, statements, observations, or feelings that express my day. This is the collection from what began July 29 with classic heart attack symptoms that ended up being a gallbladder attack.
Just for the record: The long, involved surgeries mentioned were through no fault of the surgeons. Keith’s was just a very complicated case.
I may add more to this as the days of recovery continue. This is my way of recording.
pictured words 