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It's Hot in the Desert

7/1/2017

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Picture
I am most definitely a desert soul, but even I think it is hot from time to time!  The town I live in is usually about 8-10 degrees hotter than Phoenix, and last week it reached 127 degrees. It made me think of many poems I've written about the desert and I want to share one with you from my book, "A Brief Moment in Infinite Time." The poem is titled "Coalescence," and it reminds me that as the soil is courageous before the heat of the sun, I too, can be courageous in tunneling deep into my soul, where all is laid bare.iuuki When I bravely do that, the darkness within melds with the divine light until they are one.  Here is the poem in print and in audio form, in case you want to listen rather than read, or do both!

Coalescence

I scan the
desert tableau,
taking in the
dry cracks and sandy crevices
faded and drear from desert's sun.
The soil blistered and fissured
by heat,
never crouches cowardly
before the orb's threatening light.
Lest my soul be
like the parch'ed desert ground,
I search for the
river of cool,
the place that is still and safe.
I tunnel through the
unknown territory within.
I go deeper into
the inner darkness that is
all around, until
the darkness and the light
coalesce as one.


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September 11, 2001

9/11/2016

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Picture
Burnished steel into ash
Crumbling and tumbling.
The rush of wind’s energy
Pulling and rending,
Like crashing waves on sandy shore,
A deafening display.

Why this evidence of evil
 
Thrown so casually,

Amid the early morn
Unbidden, decisive,
                                                Without a second’s pause?
                                                
                                                 O deep blackness of grief,

                                                 Your hot stifling blanket
                                                 Begs sufferers succumb
                                                 To terror’s dark silence.
                                                
                                                 Hearts can know no peace,

                                                 Tongues and limbs lie limp,
                                                 Driven like metal through ice.
                                                 Death, destruction – all in a heap.
                                                 No mercy falling from heav’n
                                                 On this September morn.

                                                                                    ©Renee Miller
                                                                                    September 27, 2001

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Getting Through Grief

9/29/2015

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Today I share with you a poem I wrote in 2000, titled Grief's Passing.  When you first read it, you might assume that I had gone through a relationship break-up or suffered the death of someone close to me.  Strangely, the grief that occasioned the poem had to do with my work.  It was a 'Jonah' time for me.  I was happy in my desert home, after having left a job that was no longer tenable for me, and I was enjoying the much needed healing that the desert always offers me. But, God called me to do a task I had no desire to do.  Like Jonah, I wanted to flee from God.  I didn't want God 'meddling' in my healing process! I tried to ignore, avoid, and deny what God was asking me to do.  Yet, again, like Jonah, I was unsuccessful at telling God "No." I finally agreed to go where God was sending me, but I wept and wept when I had to leave the desert.  This poem is the culmination of my grief, and my grief's passing...perhaps, it may help you if you are grieving...

Grief’s Passing

The spiral downward
Into the well
Of blackest grief
Overwhelms.
Until  breath shortens,
Until heart empties,
Until life weakens.
The fall into the
Yawning cavern
Catapults the
Fragile soul
Forcefully, fully.
Hammering,
Battering,
Shattering,
Threatening to rip
The soul's fibers
Without mercy;
Shred by shred,
By suffering shred.
And then,
In half-whispered tones
The propelling motion
Is stilled.
Cells compressed, relax.
Air seeps silently
Into the fractured
Pockets that
Grief left behind.
A deeper breath begins.
The heart fills.
Life is glimpsed again
With gossamer threads
Of gratitude.

                © 2000 Renee Miller

 
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Searching for God

9/20/2015

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As a poet, I often like to create lyrics to hymns.  The music of hymns can be so beautiful as to take your breath away, but the words often seem outdated, irrelevant to today's culture, too paternalistic or written in language that is not inclusive of all people.  So, I frequently write fresh words to go with ancient tunes.  Because these words are fresh and relevant to my contemporary experience, I find that they lodge in my soul with ease, and I find myself singing them when I least expect to, but probably when they are most needed!  I'm sharing two with you in this post.  If you are interested in more, or would like something specific written for you or your church, let me know.  I would rather we find new words for old hymns, than cast out beautiful music in favor of what does not lift us to heaven's gate!

To the tune of "Be Thou My Vision"

Fear not to discover the truth in your soul,
Live from that truth, let your soul be made whole.
Let ego be dispersed, let heaven reveal,
Who you were made to be, what is truth, what is real.

© 2013 Renee Miller


To the tune of "When Jesus left the Father’s throne"

When you take the risk to search for God
Limit not how God will come,
Stretch your soul to what’s unknown to you
Even if it costs you some.
When the grace descends, from sources strange
Leaving your soul breathless with awe,
You will feel the filling of the Lord
To the throne of God you will draw.


© 2012 Renee Miller

Please 'like' this page if these are meaningful to you, or share them with others. Leave a comment, if you'd like to see more!

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Who Am I?

8/26/2015

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It's the question of life, isn't it?  Who am I?  Who am I really?  Who am I right now?  Here's a short poem I wrote that may help you reflect on that important question of identity. One holy friend of mine who is now deceased wrote that it is our first response that is the indicator of who we are.  That concept is included in the poem, and can become its own spiritual practice.  Simply staring at your first responses to things will tell you incredible things about your soul.

Who am I?
For your soul contains a treasure house,
Treasure that is new and old.
Bring it out and let it shine in sun,
Show you what is dross, what is gold.
Fear not to identify good and bad,
Hidden down below what you do.
Stare intently at your first response,
Let it show the truth of you.

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The Moment

7/20/2015

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Listen to a reading of my poem "The Moment."  Using the ocean as a metaphor, the poem talks of the middle place - the place between the past and what will come.  Enjoy!
https://youtu.be/DC1bUvptMaY
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    Life is rich with texture and beauty. Even the parts that seem unwanted hold within them seeds of grace.

    In this blog, you will find all sorts of snippets and vignettes about life - sometimes whimsical, or poetic, or reflective, or my own experiments with life. Perhaps, you will find yourself somewhere in my random musings. 

    I will write as if I were writing in my personal journal.  Where things touch your soul or might be helpful to someone you know, please share this blog with them.


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