Three Poems by Susan Windle

September 1, 2015 | By | 1 Reply More

Pretend you are God

Pretend you are God

and your body is praying to you.

Pretend the power to give

precisely what is needed

by your precious flesh

belongs to you, and the love

at the root of your giving

is yours, infinitely yours.

 

What will you do with this power?

Pretend you know.

Moment by moment

in the halls of forever, you see

every tiny step

that must be taken

toward the glistening

City of Peace as it beckons

from star to star.

 

Pretend you fathom

the distances, span

the unbelievable, and

resting in the depths of your making

you listen, hear

the cries of the creature, your beloved,

as she crumples,

crushed in the life you have given her.

Imagine the agony of that.

 

What will you do for her?

 

 

Mission Statement

I was born to raise this cup.

Not just any cup but this cup:

open throat of the godmade lily—

veins of my petals

engraved, embedded with topaz

in the strength of my sides.

 

I was born to lift my name to the blue

white, rolling gray of the holy sky,

to offer this voice, the song I am given

to praise the overlooked earth

as she springs me up and forward

into the growing sun.

 

I am here to give

succor and sweetness

to every fleet being that finds me

planted here in this place, the one place

that has chosen me,

called me to life.

 

And you, beloved,

what are you born to do? Where

is the ground of your thriving?

Are you living there?

 

May I meet you.

 

Gift

What is the value of an hour,

the one I am given

to give you?

 

Pearls, however lustrous,

do not begin to tell.

Seeds, volatile as they are,

full of quiet fire, hint

at what can happen

with one, full

measure of time.

 

Bread.

Now that says it.

 

There’s a lump, and a quickening:

what was dense

begins to breathe, expand,

becomes

in the heat of a hearth

loaf , fragrance,

for all

generations

can be fed

by the nourishment

that begins

in the space of one

thoroughly kneaded

well handled and

thoughtfully shaped

hour.

Deeply rooted in her Northwest Philadelphia neighborhood, Susan Windle uses her craft to explore and share the wonders and mysteries of everyday life, to inspire and strengthen community and to challenge the forces of injustice. Relishing the resonances between voices, she collaborates frequently with musicians, visual artists, progressive leaders and activists. Susan is a self-published and collaboratively published poet. In addition to four books, Susan has published fine art poem-prints with visual artists Sara Steele and Alana Lea and three texts for choral compositions with composer Andrea Clearfield. She leads on-going writing circles and coaches individual writers around questions of clarity and purpose. Since 1991 she formed Voices of a Different Dream to experiment with song and poetry in an on-going creative partnership. As two poets and one a capella singer, they have been supporting and mentoring one another since. She offers her poems and her voice in a wide variety of contexts, including liberal religious settings, as well as workshops and gatherings to inspire those who desire fundamental social change.

https://www.facebook.com/susanwindle.poet

Follow Susan on Twitter at @SusanWindle

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Category: Being, Poetry, United States of America, When Women Waken Literary Journal

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  1. Judy thomson neew hixson says:

    Sue I like the bread poem

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