ElizabethEsther.com

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You are draped in a festoon of years
            weighted with chronicles, tomes, indexes.

And I am the repository of your stories
            an empty cistern you fill up with all your fullness.

You spill children and I shed them
            tangles of words, yours and mine rearranged.

We are cocoon weavers, gossamer strand splitters
        molting fonts and glyphs; our very own typeface.

Did you ever imagine it would be
                      such exquisite agony?

EE, 11.20.09

One More Kiss.

Just one more kiss, then I'll depart,
This smile belies my aching heart.

Bright, shining arrows of your tears
do pierce my soul, persuade my fears.

Sweet children, send me with your prayers,
For faith needs courage, else hope despairs.

Now husband, kiss me, make it true,
Stamp memory's mark with taste of you.

So, now it's time and must I leave?
Cleave not away! O stay and cleave.

Elizabeth Esther
6/12/09

My Sons.

 

Chipped teeth and stinky socks

Sticks, rocks and worn out shoes

Pine tree forts and building blocks

And this Mommy's heart

imprisoned by love's locks.

Unrequited.

Naked king, you're still pretending
waving a stick over a mud pie village.

Once you grabbed my faith
and broke it over your knee.

I let you do it, I was scared
and I so wanted to please you.

You paid me in tears and emptiness,
wrote a check for silence.

So, I emptied my pockets
of all the unanswered questions

And shelved the words I wanted to scream.
Because nice girls don't speak their mind.

I waited.

I     waited.

And I was not forsaken.

No Goodbyes.

I slept and dreamt of you
and of the handful of words you gave me.

They are strung across the hallways of my dreams
twinkling at me above the sand dunes of years.

It's piling up at my feet and blowing in my eyes
but I still remember how it felt to hold your hand.

If I leaned toward you, would you let me rest?
Not grasping,  just gazing at what we were before the storm.

Don't flit, those small moments are all that remain.
The tide is out, but the wind is rising.

And I don't know when I'll see you again.

Mommy Warrior.

When mother and father forsook me
my Daddy took me in.
When my screams were silenced
my Daddy heard me.

When babies like me were thrown away
my Daddy treasured us on that scary day.

My Daddy has listened to our cries
rising up before Him,
an ocean of grief.

My Daddy is sending a Mommy
to stop our tidal wave of tears
My Daddy sending a a Mommy
to soothe away our fears.

My Daddy gave this Mommy one of us
to show the world how beautiful we are.

This Mommy, she's strong and brave and true
she doesn't care what people say
she knows what she has to do.

This Mommy knows we were supposed to live
that's why she's the best.
She knows we wanted to find our home
at our Mommies' breast.

Because even though we love our Daddy
we were meant to live

we were meant to live

even for just one day.

Elizabeth Esther, 9/4/08
dedicated to Sarah Palin

[to honor the silent memory of millions of aborted children, comments are closed]

Sonnet For My (you don't write about me on your blog, do you?) Husband

How do I love thee, let me count the daze
of midnight feeds with squally newborn twins.
Those screaming fits? They say it’s just a phase,
like diaper rash or dimpled double chins.
And yet true love cannot real true love be
‘til bed be seized by tiny infant kings,
and hands are doused with errant newborn pee.
We go to wash and lose our wedding rings.
Such love have I for you, my darling spouse,
you say I’m cute, my stretch marks say you lie.
When spit up stains each fine expensive blouse,
I yell. But still, you call me sweetie pie.
I’ve wept, I’ve laughed, this was your plan:
to love me always, steady man.

Better Than Sacrifice

This silent, simple service
a gentle gift of beauty,
to bloom with quiet purpose
despite going unnoticed.

5.22.07 Elizabeth Esther

p.s. yes Mateo, I wrote this, too. and i took the picture! ;-)

p.p.s. these beautiful purple flowers are in full-bloom along an empty field near my home--nobody tends them, waters them, weeds them...but still, they bloom.

Lent Reflections, A Poem [by me]

My sin it was that nailed Him there
that crown of thorns was mine to bear.

He the Lamb and I the traitor
He the lover and I the hater.

What love upheld Him on that tree?
'Twas love unbounded, love for me.

O Jesus, Savior, crucified
Thy death my debt has satisfied.

3/14/07

Unfettered Souls

When fettered souls unfettered go
like climbers from a whiteout snow
emerging blindly from the cold
their winter'd souls have grown so old.

As passing thru a filmy veil
cheeks gone white, a deathly pale
they breathe at last in light of day
the sting of death has passed away.

Elizabeth
1/2/07
picture taken in July '06 @ Haystack Rock in Cannon Beach, Oregon