Did you notice
That I noticed
You were noticing me too?
Did your eye
Catch my eye
When I eyed those eyes of blue?
Were you touched
When we touched
Accidentally (if that’s true)?
Did you see
That I sighed
As I saw your soul shine through?
Did you sense
The immense
Magnetism, me to you?
Do you know
You’re loved so,
And I’m glad I said “I do.”
Could we respect our elderly,
Our mentally
Unwell and worn;
Our foreign-born?
Opinions that oppose our views?
Please let’s not choose
To denigrate.
Let’s celebrate
Divergences. Let’s love despite;
And so ignite
A shared esteem –
A common dream.
When depth of pain has plunged to ocean’s floor,
And memories seem to marinate in tears;
When anguish tries to overtake your core;
When every conscious thought confirms your fears,
I stand in awe of what I see in you –
Your joy in Christ still manages to shine
Despite the flames of hell you’re walking through –
The fruit of lives abiding in the Vine.
Our Father fully comprehends your loss –
Your son now lives, because His bore the cross.
Dad and Mom
Because you love and respect,
I love and respect.
Because you are content with modest means,
I am content with modest means.
Because you cherish simple pleasures,
I cherish simple pleasures.
Because you value my mother,
I married a man who values me.
Because you are loving and just,
I easily see my Heavenly Father as loving and just.
And so, Dad, I love you
just because.
© Marie Elena Good, 2010
Just yesterday you received a visit from a yesteryear student. He is not the first to take time from his busy life to travel out of his way to spend time with his once-upon-a teacher. In my opinion, your students were blessed to have been born in a time and location that placed them under your musical direction and life tutelage. They learned what hard work, dedication, honesty, and enthusiasm would do for them.
… and if they were blessed, how much more so am I? And how can I adequately express how deep my thankfulness, respect, and love are rooted? I can’t. But I can write a little poem, and put it out here for you to see and return to if ever you doubt that I see you as a gift from my heavenly Father Himself. Always.
I was drawn to their son.
The kind blue eyes
That softened, and crinkled in the corners
When they dared make contact with mine.
The broad shoulders,
That beckoned me to lay my head
Against the chest they framed.
The unassuming demeanor
That spoke volumes to me
Of how he was raised.
But my heart had been wounded.
My trust had been broken.
My spirit was guarded.
Until I met them.
And I saw
The kind blue eyes
That softened, and crinkled in the corners
When they made contact with hers.
The kiss placed tenderly on her head.
The hand that gently stroked her cheek.
The whispered prayer that honored her.
The heart that took in
Every word she spoke,
Every breath she drew.
And I knew
Their son,
Who was stealing my heart,
Could be trusted.
© Marie Elena Good, 2010
Happy Father’s Day to my father-in-law and my husband, You are both dearly loved.
What matters the skin
Or shape of the eyes
From which well the tears
Of final goodbyes?
What matters the weapon
When brandished with hate?
Teach precious ones love
While proud tongues debate.
Photo by Leland K. Good
As I absorb the beauty of the earth –
The vast array of color, feel, and taste
My senses quicken as I deem its worth
I pause to grasp this gift with which we’re graced.
What love has our Creator, that He chose
To lavish us with splendor, needlessly?
This symphony of love that He composed
Delights and serenades unceasingly.
Magnificence displayed in all there is.
The palette, infinite – the pleasure, His.
“Mary and Baby Jesus” used with permission of artist. See Jean Keaton Inspired Art … lovely cards and frame-able art available here: http://www.jeankeatonart.com/store/greeting-cards/mary-and-baby-jesus-greeting-card/.
“So be it done to me as you have said.”
Yet, as the words released from my own tongue,
I did not understand the path I’d tread,
Nor anguish God would ask of one so young.
The visit of that night became surreal,
As mundane daily chores consumed my life.
I questioned, did I dream the whole ordeal?
For I was just a mother and a wife.
Then, jolted from this lulled complacency,
I watched in horror as they took my son
To torture him, and nail him to a tree,
And wailed myself when he cried, “It is done.”
I gazed upon the empty cross, and tomb,
In awe – I’d cradled God within my womb.
© Marie Elena Good
pictured words 