Aria for Alto Saxophone and Piano

We are at a concert,
the archer and I,
And the fifth number in
Is a piece unknown to me,
"Aria for Alto Saxophone and Piano,"
by Eugene Bozza.

The opening piano notes
Herald a wistful, melancholy tune,
And I brace myself
For the sax line,
But I am unprepared for it
Regardless.

The alto sax melody
Pierces me as few things can,
Expressing in notes
What I cannot utter aloud.
Its haunting, lilting voice
Washes over me,
Engulfing the dam
I hide my emotions behind.

Father...
What do I even start praying for?
Healing?  Release?  Change? 
A putting to death of the old person
In order to put on the new?

Do not use music
To cut me to the quick!
Do not
Allow me
To be so exposed!
Hide me, shelter me,
I pray,
Until I am fit to stand,
And not be so moved...

Tongue-tied

Lord...
In the silences of my heart,
In the recesses
Only You can access,
There is an old wound
Newly torn afresh.

Can You please
Take it away,
Take it all away,
So that I am forever stripped
Of that which plagues me?

Or have I not been brought
To the point of willingness
To relinquish this to You?
Is this a surface longing
While stubbornness and rebellion
Foment beneath?

How much longer?
How much more?
How many more times
Until I am wrung dry,
And this temptation leaves me?

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. (1 Corinthians 10:13)

Really, God?
Really?
Because I'm looking
For ways out
In my head
And not seeing
The exit signs!

O Lord...
Tie my lips shut,
Bind my hands,
Turn my head away -
Protect me from
My well-intentioned friends,
The Adversary,
But mostly
From myself...

Valley Prayer for C

Father,
I just got off the phone
With my sister in Christ
Living in North Carolina.
The Manhattanite is in shock
Over the sudden passing
Of her mother.

I know the typhoon of emotion
Coming her way.
I see it on the horizon
As clear as day.

Lord,
I ask that You guard her heart
During the mourning period ahead.
Comfort and sustain her.
Give her the peace
Only You can.

May she call on me
Whenever she needs to.
May You put
The right words in my mouth -
Words that heal and sustain,
Soothe and edify -
At those times.

Father,
Be near to her.
Make Yourself
A tangible presence,
A Divine Kiss
From the abundance
Of Your Eternal Goodness!...

Polaris

North Star,
Guide me to safety.

I have wandered far afield
These past few weeks.

I am acutely aware
Of enemy waves
Crashing against my ship.

Lead my restless, wandering heart
Home...
Home to where
You are...

Maelstrom

I stand
At the epicenter
Of the cyclonic storms
Raging within me.

Winds howl and buffet -
Rain soaks me through -
Thunder rattles my bones.
Lightning illuminates the sky
With wild, vivid images
Of all that surges within me.

I stand as one lost,
Shivering,
In the cold.

Eyes shut,
I whisper through gritted teeth:
"Eli!"

"Child."

It is The Anointed,
Standing just outside
The eye of the tornado
I am standing in.

"Can you take away
Everything messing with me
From the inside out?"
I can taste the desperation
In my own voice.

"I cannot take it from you
By force.
You must give it up
Willingly."

"That's what I'm asking -"

"That's not what you're asking."
It is gentle,
But firm.
It is also true.

"Lord, I -"
I stop speaking,
And simply shake my head.

"I cannot take and heal
That which you will not
Give to Me,"
He reminds me.

I feel small and ashamed,
Perpetually tainted,
Perpetually on the run
From myself.

Spans of years
And a cross-country move
Haven't eliminated
This feeling of wrong-ness
Inside of me...
Everywhere I go,
There I am.

The gulf between
My external life
And internal life
Is narrowing,
Evidenced by
A growing restlessness and turbulence.

Ah, Lord,
You Who have calmed storms
On the open seas,
So too,
Do unto me!
The boat's filling fast,
And I do not wish
To perish!

Respite

Father,
We need some help down here,
STAT.
The wanderer has been
On a 48-hour tear,
Hardly sleeping,
Very belligerent and defiant,
Doing odd things
All hours of the day and night.
Her ankle is swollen
From being on her feet too much.
I understand
That this is a progression of the disease,
But we're running out of energy
To keep up with her;
I don't think we can handle
A day three of this.

When she finally sleeps tonight,
Please still and calm
That mis-firing brain of hers.
Please bring her to
A place of internal rest,
So that her body has time to recuperate,
And so that we have time
To do the same.

Lord,
Forgive my recent reticence,
And hear me!
Great Comforter,
I know that You can reach down,
And soothe the synapses
In the wandering momma's brain.
I humbly ask that You
Bring her into some measure of peace tonight.
She needs the rest,
As do we...
A Holy Rest,
Inaugurated by the healing touch
Of Your gentle, outstretched Hand...

Grafted

"So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord." (Ephesians 2:19-21)

Lord,
I am old enough,
And have experienced enough
Of Your Saving Grace
To know when not to question
The way things happen,
Or the reason behind them.

The archer -
First spotted at Mountain View,
Singing with the rest of the
Blued-robed choir members.
I made eye contact with her
Several times during that first service,
But was too homesick for New Utrecht
To pay attention to much else.

I told Adalheid I was not going back.

She told me to go back.

I went back.

I crashed choir practice the following Wednesday,
And that same girl
Who had made eye contact with me
Introduced herself to me.
Someone else invited me to
Wednesday night post-choir-practice pizza.
I told them I would attend
Once I officially joined the choir after Easter.

I am not in Arizona four months yet.
During these initial, transitional months,
I have found myself drawn to the archer.
Perhaps it is our NYC connection.
Perhaps it is our mutual love of music.
Perhaps it is our warped senses of humor.
Whatever it may be,
I have been slowly, imperceptibly gravitating to her,
And have been slowly, imperceptibly
Pulling her into my household's orbit.

Like a farmer's grafting,
I see her rapidly becoming comfortable
With the frankness of Adalheid,
The off-handedness of the king,
The craziness of the wandering momma,
And the antics of a house that has
More pets than people. 
When she sits at dinner,
And we all mutually taunt and abuse each other,
She fits right in,
Both as taunter and tauntee. 
It's a good fit, Lord,
And I'm happy for it.
I'm happy because it's life-affirming to know
That a family unit can travel more than
Halfway across the country
And acquire yet another addition...
It's life-affirming to know
That a family unit can descend upon
A hapless, unsuspecting individual
And make that person feel at home
Within its walls and hearts.

Father,
Thank you for the gift
Of my burgeoning friendship with the archer. 
Thank you for the ease with which
She feels at home here. 
After all,
Aren't our homes here on earth
And the desire we have to be "at home"
A faint echo of
Our heart's longings
To be near and dear to You?...