 | essayindex poemindex |
- The Poems in my Head
- Fear Plays the Fiddle
- Aware
- Blinders and a Dunce Cap
- Move!
- Clumsy Fool
- Nothing to Hide the Trash
- In a Groove
- Is There Any Room for Different?
The Poems in my Head
The
poems in my head
skip and dance among the marigolds
until I net them into words.
They harmonize in perfect pitch
until they spot the microphone.
They sparkle in amethyst and beryl
until I paint them gray.
I crumple them in frustration,
tossing them towards the trash box.
I miss my target.
I reach down, pick up the last poem wad,
place it onto my computer desk,
and smooth out the crinkles.
They are imperfect children
who still remind me
of the perfectly conceived
and delivered offspring in my mind.
Perhaps they deserve
more rehearsals in the studio,
more turns on the potter’s wheel,
more photos in better lighting.
Lori Fiechter
September 1, 2007
Psa 42:5
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and [why] art thou disquieted
in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him [for] the help of his countenance.
Fear Plays the Fiddle
Fear plays the fiddle;
plays it well,
plays it commandingly
in minor melodies of foreboding apprehension.
For faith is mute today,
and Hope's own strings
are slack.
So fear plays on,
without counterpoint or rival,
Soaking into the soul
and squeezing it into
a cold and clammy lump;
permeating the will and freezing it
into helpless submission.
Oh, for a light!
For one major chord
to strike against the dark.
For a strong, sweet melody of hope,
soaring, sweeping, swelling upward,
facing fear with courage and tenacity,
chasing fear back into its little cave,
and posting watchmen at its door.
We wish not to break the fiddle,
but to play a different tune.
lori fiechter
4-27-07
Aware
(Genesis 28:16, 17; 2 Corinthians 4:18 )
Where is God?
He is near;
He is here,
and we knew it not.
There are ladders to heaven
in every place,
but we are unseeing and unaware.
There are brushes of angel's wings
and mysterious stirrings of wonder--
glimpses so brief we
shake ourselves and
doubt that they were real.
We build an altar, out of fear, perhaps
And tell ourselves,
"God was surely here."
But then the phone rings--
we know by the ringtone
which phone it is,
and follow the sound to its source.
The noisy things which are seen
crowd out so readily
the noiseless, unseen, underlying reality.
So easily we are distracted!
But God is here,
and very near.
lori fiechter
4-24-07
We are to be slow to wrath, and slow
to speak, but not slow to learn! May we each be alert today to the moments and methods God
is using to shape us and lead us and change us, realizing that there is nothing random or
purposeless with Him
Blinders and a Dunce Cap
(Psalm 103: 7-17)
Not the most stylish of apparel,
but I put them on, unthinking,
and rush headlong into mistakes so familiar,
I ought to call them
by their nicknames.
The Master Teacher orchestrates object lessons
by His perfect timing
and I scribble hasty answers,
then move on to the next square
on the board of life,
never pausing to think,
"What just happened here?"
"Was I supposed to learn something?"
"What am I not seeing?"
But He has long practice in patience
with His children of dust,
repeating His lessons with
myriad variations.
And I am at least willing to
see and learn and watch and walk
(by His undeserved grace and strength)
and even remove my cap and blinders--
if it's really necessary.
And if I can remember to do so.
lori fiechter
4-24-07
It is Biblical to stand still at times, to rest
and wait on the Lord.
But there are also times when God says "Move" and we are just too comfortable or
fearful to take more than one step.
Move!
(Isaiah 30:21)
Pick up your bed and walk!
Why will you not listen?
Take one step forward, one step
off of the well-trodden, tramped-down
circle of endless misgivings,
excuses, and hesitations.
Move!
Confidence? You lack confidence?
What of it?
You don't need to trust your own feet;
You need to trust your own Guide.
One step, now--
Good!
Now, another.
No! What happened?
Why did you look back and stop?
Why did you look down and sink?
You just let faith take off on
a dead run and didn't even bother to
call it back?
You didn't think to ask for help?
And now, you've flopped back onto
your thread-bare mat to
sit and sit until
your legs grow weak again
from disuse.
Get up!
One setback is not the end.
Move!
And be thankful that God
does not give up on you
as quickly as you
give up on yourself.
lori fiechter
April 23, 2007
Clumsy Fool
(Isaiah 41:13, 30:21)
There I go again:
"Excuse me--so sorry!"
"How clumsy of me!"
What am
I doing here?
Everyone around me is
serving expertly, confidently,
spinning circles of efficiency
around dizzy little me.
I just keep on
bumbling, fumbling, stumbling;
falling flat, falling short, and
feeling foolish.
This is where You want me, Lord?
--or did I pick up the wrong map?
I'll do things Your way, Lord.
If this is where You want me, well, OK.
But don't leave me to my own devices;
Stay close by and pick me up again
when I fall.
I'm going to need a lot of help here--
and grace, and patience, and understanding
Deep breath.
Here we go again.
"My bad. Let me pick those up for you.
So sorry!"
I may be a clumsy fool,
but I'm Your clumsy fool, Lord.
I'm all Yours.
lori fiechter
February 1, 2007
We've had a rainy, snow-less winter
so far in my part of
I like to think of the snow like God's Grace, covering our sins. If we don't remain blanketed by His love and grace, our ugliness is soon exposed.
Nothing to Hide the Trash
No cover-up of
sparkling white or restful green;
Nothing to hide the litter
or cover it.
Exposed ugly;
Bare ugly;
Raw ugly,
Like the cake that stayed partly in the pan
with no frosting to
smooth over the flaws.
What to do about the flaws?
Can I work on them
instead of masking them,
Pick up the litter
and deal with it?
Or just keep on
praying for snow?
lori fiechter
1-20-07
In a Groove
In a groove,
or in a rut?
Following well-worn cow paths in the brain,
retreading the same habits
of thought and action
until any other way
becomes too difficult
or even unthinkable.
Better be sure the habit
is a good one.
lori fiechter
1-15-07
Is There Any Room for Different?
Why the sameness and
the pressure to fit in:
to look the same
and talk the same
and think the same
and have the same interests?
Isn't there any room for different?
And the Same ones have such
fine-tuned antennae,
such sensitive noses
to sniff out the first whiff
of different
and set in motion the ostracizing.
Insecure in their sameness,
threatened by the different,
(perhaps because they really
don't know who they are themselves),
they bully-on with bravado,
picking on each green feather
in the flock of red.
lori fiechter
1-15-07