quarantine spring

that end of winter, April really, breeze
morning birds here and there and EDM from a garage nearby
the sound of chainsaw and thudding and minor household projects
all pushed off for such a time as this.

Wednesday morning but we’re all home
only the few and the brave and the essential
go to work
in a time like this.

cars still drive by…
where
can they be going?
groceries perhaps…

though the threat of sickness could be a haze
over us like the gray dome of clouds,
it brings life to know that we are not alone at home;
my neighbors too must stay enclosed and quarantined.

.

[and i never would have known
if i had stayed inside the house
with ticking clocks
and the stuffy smell of eggs and sausage]

\ lea /

to write in the light

in December i realized,
i had been writing poems in the dark!
the sadness and hardship i faced
came pouring from my heart.

but You made me for light, for day, for life,
not for dark, for night, for death!
my heart no longer gripped by pain and seeking,
in You, Oh God, i rest.

though writing is a vessel of healing and growing,
i stalled in the self-pity and sadness of sin’s blight.
but how can I dwell there, knowing
that you moved me to a world of light!

let my words reflect a changed heart,
let darkness no longer pour forth!
let my writing be love for You
and reflections of your endless worth!

no, to consider pain and hardship is no wrong,
nor the earthly matters that we live here among,
but yes, to dwell therein too long!
oh let light now be my song —

light in my vision, light in my heart;
to this I belong!
let it flow out through my words and actions,
all my life long.

\ lea /

no lesser

My fulfillment is found in my Savior;
I need nothing else.
No joy, love, or purpose that is lesser
Can be my soul’s wealth.

\ lea /

nothing to bring

Though I have nothing to bring,
Jesus is everything!
Though my sin is death,
He is my peace.

How great is this love!

That though I am dirty
and bear no good as recompense,
He would redeem me
and be my defense.

Dirty hands and wild mind,
Jesus be light inside.

\ lea /

inner city island

sometimes a breeze comes,
and it’s from some other place,

while eating pineapple water ice,
and bachata y Reggaetón and Kanye drive by…

so Philly, so Puerto Rico.

the sky is blue,
and clouds are only a few,
just like
on the island,

but flies hover over
magenta and fuchsia,
bright flowers that open
with rolled petals.

stop sign graffiti,
loose cords from one telephone pole to the next.

cars parked on sidewalks,
next to canopies of families
just
pasando el rato.

motorcycles and bikes doing wheelies; guys showing off,
sometimes glancing to see if you notice.

walk down the street,
how you doin mami?
wanna ride?
this bike got an extra seat…

look at the ground –
needle, wrapper, cigarette.

watch your step,
down by needle park.

did you hear?
Papi got shot
for taking
a parking spot.

Stay inside,
otro papi running from the cops,
mighta got locked up,
now they looking for the gun in the bushes…

run, run,
get home!
mami did some kinda ritual;
she feel some bad coming…

green canopies and rocking chairs on the porch,
smell Carmen’s pinchos from the corner,
the whole barrio comes to buy,
and maybe to stay, hang out.

street is quiet now for a moment; birds chirp,
but cars come – bass that vibrates, that you can feel inside.

but oye, mira (hear, look) —
people.

talking, hanging
down the block,
spending time —
island in the chaos.

\ lea /

tetelestai (a poem; a prayer)

Jesus, I am unsteady.
My heart wavers and doubts.
My path is unclear,
so I speak out loud —

I ask, “Am I yours?”
And you say, “Yes, rest in me, trust me,”
& I receive from you the cross,
This gift you have purchased with your blood so costly.

You were robbed of life & dignity,
You bore my shame & burdens,
On your weathered, holy shoulders,
& You let the nail engrave my name —

into your skin,
as it tore your flesh.

& you cried out:

IT IS FINISHED.

& so it is.

Help me, savior Jesus,
To rest in these nails
& those shoulders
That carried my darkness & shame.

Let me not forget
that you finished it,
and think my faith relies
on my work to sustain it.

What you did is enough.
It is!
For me,
Your cross is enough.

\ lea /

fridge magnet poetry: haiku

was delirious
but soar beneath blue moon mist
recalls sky of rose

\ lea /