Tag: solitude

Executor

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry4 Comments

Executor,

someone you love has just died

but there is no time for tears.

You ought to be eating ice cream on the kitchen floor,

surrounded by crunched up Kleenex,

but you’re swimming in a sea of papers instead.

Executor,

someone you love has just died—

now call strangers, the government, charities

and tell them so.

Accept scores of condolences

from people with calm voices.

Thank them politely

and get on with business.

Executor,

someone you love has just died.

Pay the bills,

plan the funeral

plan the burial

plan the epitaph.

Capture in two lines

the life of someone you love

who has just died.

Executor,

where are your tears?

Early

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry2 Comments

Early in the morning,

in the delicious quiet

before anyone else is awake,

I leave aside my troubled dreams

and get up to feed the birds.

It’s a windy morning.

The kids’ toys in my yard are all tumbled about

and the crows feathers are ruffled

as the await their breakfast

on the telephone wires.

I open the window to throw them bread crusts.

The cool morning air

greets me like a brisk breeze from a boat,

fresh and hopeful

as if the day itself

was dreaming of adventure.

Gas Station Saunter

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry, Uncategorized2 Comments

See the woman walking

light as air–

her wings filling up with the wind,

canvas shopping-bag sails dancing in the sun.

An easy, breezy escape

for 10 minutes,

popping over to the corner gas station

–alone!–

to pick up lemonade ice-tea

for her temporarily bed-bound husband

who had this special request.

She walks along in the sun

smelling the city scent of spice and cement,

free enough to notice such things

without the usual tangled parade of double stroller,

the baby in snuggly

and other kids marching two by two.

She wonders what the chances are

that she’ll get to capture

the poetry of this ordinary moment

when she arrives home

to 80,000 questions

like “Why is blood red?

What is the sun made of?

What do we do before we are born?”

and “Can I have a ‘peeburrer samich’ nooooooow?”

An obnoxious car cuts her off to turn through the crosswalk on her light

–keeping it real–

lest in her pondering she float off into the brilliant blue sky

to alight on the snow-covered mountain tops that beckon in the distance

to this winged creature:

a woman alone for a walk.

Twilight

On By Anna EastlandIn PoetryLeave a comment

That lonely hour

between the day and night

between the dark and light

that lonely hour is here

The darkness–not yet complete–

the day–bittersweet–flying away

What could have been or should have been

is over now

My heart’s afloat in this no man’s land

between hanging on, letting go and giving in

accepting that the day was enough

Evening falls on sleepy-eyed dreams of tomorrow

Solitude surrounds me

this lonely hour

Prairie Walk

On By Anna EastlandIn PoetryLeave a comment

When I’m back home I’ll think of you

walking under the immense dome of the sky

which curves around like giant arms

until it touches the distant edges of the prairie.

You awed by the paradox

of God’s ever-watchful otherliness

and the incarnational intimacy of the earth

supporting your feet–

you tiny amidst the soaring and the solid,

utterly surrounded by God.

Confidence Comes From a Place of Quiet

On By Anna EastlandIn Ponderings1 Comment


We live in a society filled with experts. There are specialists who are eager and willing to tell you how to do just about everything. Want to clean out your closet? Feed your kids well? Wear the right colour for your hair? Thrive in the workplace? There are likely dozens of e-courses, books and podcasts to teach you how. Let’s just hope they all agree…lest the conflicting “experts” cause more confusion and give you even less clarity. 

While the abundance of information is potentially enriching, I wonder what it does to our confidence to feel we need to consult an expert or extensively research every decision. Who are we, after all, to decide for ourselves? And are we actually doing anything right??

This kind of insecurity can rob us of peace. It’s impossible to follow everyone’s advice, in the same way it’s impossible to wash your hair with every kind of shampoo that claims to be best. It would make you crazy to try. So we have to calmly make choices and stand by them.  Nobody else knows how to be you. Remember this, and don’t go against your gut because something is currently trendy or thought to be essential. These things change all the time anyway. 

But to shut out these clamouring voices, we need to seek a place of quiet. To turn off all our many devices and remember what it’s like to hang out with ourselves. With no add breaks. No interruptions. Just our own thoughts, and if we listen carefully enough, that still, small voice that guides our heart. The company of the one true Expert, the One who made us and knows every fibre of our being…who knows what challenges, graces, and gifts we need to be truly happy. In this place, we can remember who we are and what’s really important. 


So as the busy fall season approaches with all its potential activities, try to ask yourself quietly: “Which of these will actually contribute to the well-being of my family?” “What do we actually feel called to do?” “Which of these would maybe look good on a resumé, but lead us to being overbooked, overstressed, and short on time to enjoy being together with those we love?” 

If you ask such things quietly, peacefully, and in an attitude of listening, chances are your heart will guide you. And acting from a place of quiet, you’ll have the confidence to stand by your decisions, despite the storm of “expert” opinions ever swirling around you. In that inner quiet, you’ll find the freedom to be you. 

The Persistant Insomniac

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry, Writing5 Comments

Late at night

her eyes are wide open

as two full moons

beaming out in the dark.

Inside fires burn

flames flicker and refuse

the stillness of sleep.

 

She gets up

grabs her book

a sweater

a snack

and keeps a late night kitchen vigil

with insomnia…

–this date with quiet–

delicious silent solitude.

 

She feeds her soul

with bread and words,

then rubs her fingers together,

lights the surrounding gloom with sparks

and writes fire!