Trinity and Me

This poem of mine from 2020 was first published on Maren Tirabassi’s blog giftsinopenhands. Thanks as always to Maren for her encouragement, and her inspiring work.

Trinity and me
Trinity Sunday
God, the Parent Creator, and I
were delighted together one day.
On our deck was a strutting magpie,
boldly stepping as though on display.
Briefly noting we watched behind glass,
it continued to search for its prey,
and then, proud of its black and white class,
rushed towards us to tap on the wall.
Though its beak was still empty, it flew,
and alighted with chest out to call;
like an Indian brave counting coup,
it had boldness to boast of to all.
God and I laughed our praise at the sight
as the bird sang the song of its might.

God the Son met me once on a beach,
as my tears to salt water returned,
when God with us had seemed out of reach,
and my guts with stale anger had burned.
In my mind’s eye, I saw an old cup,
cracked and thrown down as I seemed to be,
and I felt that he picked us both up,
and he washed out the dregs in the sea,
threw the spray into rainbows that flew.
Then transformed in his hands was a bowl,
glazed with pearl and as whole as if new,
and he offered fresh water to all.

God the Spirit has blown in again:
after absence, keeps chanting my name.
Though my weariness tries to refrain,
there are words in my head tipped with flame,
and they’ll haunt me and taunt me until
I sit down with a pencil and write.
I resist, having now had my fill,
but they lurk in my mind out of sight.
I can’t settle to work more mundane
when these words are still waiting to share,
so I write, knowing how I complain
when the Spirit seems gone, and I’m bare.
	Barbara Messner June 2020