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I laughed in thanks
to the sound of your thundering rain
Why do we wait to call You
until our hearts are dry of need
The truth is hard to face
in a place so false and barren
This drought with raging fires has
Opened our eyes with smoke-filled tears
not enough to quench our thirst for
your love and forgiveness
we pray for Your gracious mercy to
rain down upon us
To know You, to live in You, to find You:
is pure happiness
For is this not what you want for us in life?
To Be Happy
Abyss of unending fountain flows up
a smiling, laughing song
© Nancy K. MacInnis Summer 1998
I thought it was just another pizza
lunch
I thought it was just another pizza lunch
we were having and one of many more
You offered to pick it up, we’d eat it at
my place with my girls, one on the floor
the other in my arms, at breast, yes, lunch
at my place would be best, you could play
Grandpa or Dad with always a gift for the
little ones: coins to commemorate their birth
dates, music boxes that cover the shelves
with lullabies to help them sleep, soften their
cries, that now, make me cry…yes, I thought
it was just another pizza lunch but this time
we didn’t talk so much, both so preoccupied
with our old life, new life, the in-between life
the strife, the sick, sad life of less time together
and before long it’s a good-bye song and
I thought it was just another good-bye song
one of many more to come, but I was wrong
it was The Good-bye Song, the last good-bye song
the last pizza lunch, and after I turned to shut the door
I thought I saw you cry, when saying good-bye
I like to imagine myself a bird of prey
traversing the airway, roads, waters
carrying The Word Of God, in my talons
The Spirit as my forward wind, carries me
to rest now and then, soaring on warm thermals
spotting the animal below with keenest eye
then descend, land before the people
much like The Angel Gabriel, before The Virgin
genuflecting with The Word
and she, the earthly, have only one fleeting question
"Who me?" He comes to enter in
all offering, through this Life, more, more, more
even within inevitable death, heaven there flies
hopeful such as I, the bird of prey
with a captured "Yes," in the oxygen, today
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