Tag: sculpture

For grace to be grace,
it must give us things we didn’t know we needed
and take us places where we didn’t know we didn’t want to go.

As we stumble through the crazily altered landscape of our lives, we find that God is enjoying our attention as never before.
~Kathleen Norris from Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life

It happens in an instant.
My grandma used to say
someone is walking on your grave.

It’s that moment when your life
is suddenly strange to you
as someone else’s coat

you have slipped on at a party
by accident, and it is far
too big or too tight for you.

Your life feels awkward, ill
fitting. You remember why you
came into this kitchen, but you

feel you don’t belong here.
It scares you in a remote
numb way. You fear that you—

whatever you means, this mind,
this entity stuck into a name
like mercury dropped into water—

have lost the ability to enter your
self, a key that no longer works.
Perhaps you will be locked

out here forever peering in
at your body, if that self is really
what you are. If you are at all.
~Marge Piercy “Dislocation” from The Crooked Inheritance

This Self—Hispanic, Latin, blond, black,
olive-skinned, native and immigrant—
dispersed far and wide
was here with everyone, yesterday and again today;

I am large, I contain multitudes.
They will not manage to deny me or ignore me or declare me undocumented:
I am written in you, in all,
as all are in me…
~Luis Alberto Ambroggio from We Are All Whitman: #2:Song of/to/My/Your/Self

Each of us a work of art,
heaven-sent,
called to reflect
on our own creation,
placed in this world to
feel grace
when we stumble,
unsure where we are to go,
who we are meant to be,
as if we don’t really belong here,
a feeling of jamais vu
when the familiar becomes strange.

This is who we are:
called to act out that grace –
to praise goodness,
to protest evil,
to grapple with reality,
to respond to injustice,
to change the direction we’re heading
fearing who we become if we don’t .