Performers, Get Fed

Performers, get fed

Return to the fountain of your youth

Lest you continually drink from an empty well

and sing and speak with a mouth so dry

it spurts out dust and fly

instead of living waters.

 

Sit in the stands, in the pews

Be one with the audience, the congregation

Remember what drew you to the altar, the stage

in the first place.

 

We must be born again daily

or die slowly,

turning not into an aging beauty

but a skipping vinyl

playing the same song again and again

til people cup their hands over their ears

and either throw you out the window

or simply walk away.

Mary, Blessed Among Women

What would be like to be Mary,
to bear and birth and raise the Son of God,

to know He is the promised Messiah,
though quite not sure of how,

to be told by Jesus that His purpose was away from her,
that He knew His calling from the get-go.

What would it be like to have Him address everyone
as His mother and father and sisters and brothers,

What would it be like to witness Him do miracles
and die on a cross?

Who knows what happened to Joseph along the way,
but Mary endured through it all,

long enough to see her Blessed Son rise,
first from the earth,
then into the sky.

As the disciples came into their own, she slipped into the background
but to be Mary during those years,
Mary the theotokos, God-bearer
o, what a calling that would be!

Legendary

In your other life,
you are a warrior princess.
You fight and spar with the younger men,
tell stories and crack jokes with the older men.

Your husband is strong and wealthy and kind
and looks upon you like you were ageless.

You face dragons with your sons
and dance around in fairy crowns with your daughters.

You listen to the wisdom of the widows
and bedeck the young women in flowing dresses.

You eat mutton with your mouth open
and sing sweet songs on the lyre.

Your skin is tough
Your belly full
All you see in the reflection of the waters
is pure beauty

In the morning, you watch the horizon with hope
In the evening, you sprint through the forests,
climbing the tallest tree
just to watch the suns go down.

You dream of flying
and the next morning you sprout wings.

You whisper to the ground and it grows.
All your ways and your days are full of magic.

Imagine now that this other life
is not too far gone,
that it is yours for the taking.
You are full of possibility
and wonder.
Your life is meant to be
a thing of legends.

Hummingbird

Wow! The moment you walked in the room
I was blown away.
Your aura, your glow
is like something out of a painting.

You glide through the room.
Everyone you touch, hug,
talk to, interact with…
it’s like they were grey and now they’re
in technicolor.

A Dolly Levi,
we’re so glad you’re back home.
Don’t ever go away again.

You see me. You smile.
We hug.
You are so intimately huggable.
You tell me of your adventures.

Rock climbing, sword fighting
Fancy dinners with heads of state.
I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping.
You are like something out of a fairy tale.

You ask me how my day was.
Suddenly, I’m without words.
I’m sure I did something,
but I’m unclear as to what.

I am entranced by you.

I want to turn the tables around again.

I suddenly don’t care about what I had for breakfast
or where I went or what I did.
I just want to hear more about you.
But you care.
You look at me directly.
Your eyes never waver.
You are connecting.
Thank you God.
In this world of disconnect, I am thankful for you,
you who seemed born outside of this time and age.

I tell you about my day, my silly little interests
and endeavors.
You smile and you listen
until my story is done.

Then you talk to me about your dress,
how you made it.
How you bought those earrings
in that bazaar in Morrocco
And the shoes were made
by a lovely old woman
whose husband took you on a tour
of the Chow Phry river
in Thailand,
and how you studied Muay Thai there
and how you drank tea in China
and boba in Japan.

I tell you I am jealous
and you laugh.
“Just be you,” you say.
We hug again and you head off
to talk to others.
You are the eternal giver.

Later we will meet for wine
and fireside chats,
you will tell other stories
and struggles
worries and concerns,
of your ailing mother
and your brother who has gone away.

I will see the side of you
I rarely get to see,
the honest side behind the superstar.

You will tell of your search for hope and meaning
and how you travel around the world,
always looking for it.

In some ways, that is my favorite part of you.
Not because it hurts, but because it is true.
You will apologize for rambling on,
but my friend you are never rambling.

These are the important things,
the hidden gems.

You tear up for an instant.
Only a moment.
You are strong.
You brush the tear away.

The words run away.
We sit there in the quiet.
I squeeze your knee.
We rise.
We take a walk by the pier.
We find a bench.
We sit.
You rest your head on my shoulder.
We watch the river pass by.

Later on, we’re over at your place.
So you can slip into your favorite
flannel pajamas.
We watch old Marx brothers movies,
followed by a documentary
on the best places to drink coffee.

Finally, you fall asleep.
I kiss your forehead,
make sure the blanket is tight,
will keep you warm through the night.

Then I step out,
into the street lights.
The stars are up ahead.
I smile.
I click my heels.
It’s moments like that
and people like you,
that make life worth living.

Even if tomorrow were to never come
I am thankful for today,
for you, for everything
You are a hummingbird,
always extracting the sweet nectar of life
from the world.