More Poetry

Since I shared the poem "Bruised" in my last post, I thought I would add the other published poem I wrote. This piece was also a submission to a poetry contest that was accepted in an anthology: A Celebration of Poets - Showcase Edition, published in 1998 by The Poetry Guild.

To Eros

As you lie asleep, oblivious to my hungry eyes,
I gaze on you --
jealous of the Moon's light
stroking your lithe body with her gentle touch.

Your skin gleams whitely.
I would think you sculpted of cool marble,
if not for the regular rhythm of your breast
filling with its living breath.

A serenely slumbering Eros
before Psyche has lifted her lamp.

Do I venture a caress?
Or, is to touch you to break the spell --
and I, like the bride of Love, to flee in shame?

Trembling at your nearness, I check my urging --
loath to arouse your peaceful repose;
yet, barely able to quiet my own turbulent ardor.

Quivering, I close my eyes to shut out the sight of you --
Psyche has avoided discovery this night;
yet, can she resist further temptation?

Autumn Poetry

Bruised

I feel the wintering air beckon insistently as each day passes.
The skies seem darkening, even as the sun puts out its watery rays;
And I look, almost vainly, for the light in my own heart to warm me instead.
Leaves crunch under my feet -- some escape as my pace quickens with the snap of the wind.
The colors are nearly past their furious prime,
But I stoop to collect the precious few that demand discovery.

Perfectly shaped maples, blushing gold to russet --
A challenge to find a perfect specimen on this crisp day.
Instead a multi-hued oak leaf draws me again and again;
And its sanguine shades strike a resonant chord.
Bruised and purpling, rich colors play across the surface,
Rendering it both wounded and angry at once.
Fragile to the touch, the relentlessly cool, sere air has buffeted it to brittleness,
Leaving it vulnerable to the slightest injury.

Yet, its rage is reflected in the smoldering shades of autumn.
Fierce and wild, unexpressed emotion longs to loose its fury into the air --
My thoughts echo that pain;
And my own fragility is perilously close to the skin.
Which emotion will win out in the end?
Can I express both and still remain in control?
Can I express either?

As tears sting my face, I wend my way home.
A home that is no longer my home.
The future is as murky as the evening gloaming,
And I search again for that one last ray of light.
I remember the leaf in my hand, so carefully held to avoid destruction.
It will never be again, but the tree will produce many others in due season.
Can I take comfort that the cycle goes on?

By Lisa C. Whitaker
Autumn 1996

As noted by the date above, I wrote this some time ago during an unsettling time in my life. Each turn of the year brings its own challenges and uncertainties, but those emotions I felt that day are fortunately banished. Nevertheless, since autumn is here again I thought I would share this particular poem as it evokes the colors of fall. It was originally published in one of those poetry contest anthologies at the time, of which I have an elusive copy stashed somewhere in my office. I'm not certain how discerning the editors of these books are, but it's lovely to be able to say I'm a published poet!

Leaf picture above found online and credited to Michael G. O'Callaghan

I saw a hawk this morning. That may not sound all that extraordinary. People see hawks every day, I suppose, as they circle the skies high up where they’re merely a dark smudge against the bright blue canopy of the heavens. I see those lazy spiraling birds as well; but today I saw a hawk. I mean I saw him on the rooftop of my little garret. Nor is this the first time he has paid me a visit, up close and personal.

I say “he,” and yes I do identify with him on that sort of level. The actual bird may in fact be a female or a male. I’m not an ornithologist or even an avid bird-watcher, other than enjoying the sweet songbirds eating from my birdfeeder or splashing in my birdbath by the door. I call him “he” because to me these rare visits have become a physical manifestation of Saint Peregrine. There are, of course, several classification of hawks – the peregrine is also called the “duck hawk” – and I know that this particular caller is not an actual peregrine. Yet, he has come to me, as I mentioned above, on more than one occasion when I needed reassurance for myself or for others.

First, I should explain who Saint Peregrine is. He was once Pellegrino Laziosi, an Italian of the Servite Order (Friar Order Servants of Mary) who lived between 1260 and 1345. From Wikipedia:

One of the special penances he decided on was to stand whenever it was not
necessary to sit. It is said that St. Peregrine did not sit for thirty years,
which caused him to develop varicose veins and then cancer on his leg and foot.
The sores became painful and doctors prepared to amputate his foot, but the
night before the surgery was scheduled to take place Peregrine dragged himself
to the foot of a crucifix and spent many hours in prayer. When he fell asleep he
received a vision of Christ touching his foot. In the morning his foot was
completely healed. He is therefore considered the patron saint of those
suffering from cancer, AIDS and other chronic diseases.

It was during those months I was dealing with ovarian cancer that I discovered Saint Peregrine and learned to rely on his presence in my spiritual life. One day some five years ago while I was enduring those eighteen weeks of chemo, I drove to my parents’ house (which I often did and still do). As I was pulling into the drive of their suburban home I noticed something sitting on top of the car in the driveway next door. Imagine my surprise to discover that it was a hawk placidly perched on the roof! I had only recently learned of Saint Peregrine, and as I drove in the creature seemed to make eye contact with me in a way that told me he was more than a mere bird of prey waiting for his next dinner. His gaze was reassuring, as if to tell me he was at hand should I need him. My mother told me the next day that she had been told in a dream that night that I was going to be all right. And I am – five years as a survivor and counting!

That same year the hawk visited me at my own home too. I was walking out the front door to get into my car, and again he was sitting nearby – this time in the tree of my neighbor across the drive, no more than five yards away. He watched me intently, neither spooked nor threatening. I spoke to him this time, thanking him for his presence. Again he seemed to look at me with an intelligence in his eyes that I found comforting. I happened to have a camera with me and took his picture, but unsurprisingly his image was indistinct when I downloaded it. His physical presence that day would have to be enough.

On occasion he returns to remind me of his protection. I haven’t encountered him quite as closely, but at least in a proximity that tells me in my own mind that he is present and watching over me. When I saw him today I was already in my car as he flew low over the yard to the eaves, and I wondered what he was trying to tell me… I have a family friend with a rare form of cancer who we have all be praying for… the death of Patrick Swayze yesterday is also on my mind, and his death echoes that of Farrah Fawcett several months ago… September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness month, and of course October is Breast Cancer Awareness month… cancer has touched many of us so intimately… I’m glad I have Saint Peregrine and my hawk on my side.

I saw a hawk this morning.

If you have a loved one who is dealing with cancer and would like a Saint Peregrine medal or prayers for him or her, please email me or leave me a message.

If you’d like to know more about Saint Peregrine: http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=237

If you’d like to know more about patron saints: http://www.catholic.org/saints/faq.php

If you’d like to know more about peregrines: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peregrine_Falcon

Peregrine picture found online and credited to Chris Brocklebank