truth

she sat with hands folded
on the soft cotton lap of her skirt
leaning intently forward, hair like wheat falling
over her narrow shoulder
ankles crossed, feet tucked
beneath the chair

did you feel this choice was the right one?
she asked
do you feel that you have done wrong?
was your life lived toward this moment
would you have changed it knowing?

my mind did not feel as if it thought
cataloging her features instead
the full tender lips, pink
skin soft as a lover's whisper
heart body soul mind
face
faintly dusted with life

how do you know what is right? I asked
What is wrong? What is change?
Are they not just names we place on
things we cannot grasp? Can we dip our cup
into the river of life
and think we know the whole?

Her face clouded, and the hands lost their color
bloodlessly clenched
looking away at the green grass fields stretching
endless
shifting at the the touch of uncertain winds

You must have known the path you were taking
would lead to this place
she said, voice low, troubled
opened palms flat on her thighs
pressing down along the lengths of muscle
as if sore from exertion
she did not speak it but
her tension begged for comfort

My sigh was lost in the sudden
rustling of the leaves behind me, the sun
shaping shadows from familiar things
why must I have known? I asked
gentle to ease her distress
do you think each step was taken with thought
a piece wisely chosen to sharpen
the vision I saw in my private dreams?

then where is the peace?
her words hung in the air
with the scent of freshly turned earth and
the lazy buzzing of a sated bee,
hands folded again and still

I could see my smile puzzled her
knowing as she did the path I chose
believing she could learn how to choose another
avoid my fate
my destiny

there is no peace
I said
none here for us, no path
goes there
peace is for another place and for some
not even then

I longed to smooth the lines now drawn
between her brows
not sure my words would reach her
but trying -
I can't say other choices would have taken me
to a better or different end
my thoughts, my feelings, my knowledge of myself
my knowledge of you
are seen through the lens of my life

desperate now to reach her
an urgency strangely built on truth
I denied -
cloud shadows chasing swiftly across the lawn -
I touched her skirt, she looked
into my soul

when I ask why, and what if
I said
I am setting aside my future to search for a past
that has not been and can not
be
Can I be any plainer than these words?

Stillness fell between us
until the pulses of nature
scents and sounds and kisses of breeze
stirred her again

If there is no right, there is no wrong
she said, placing her hand over mine
how can you find forgiveness if you only see darkness?
Does not the water in the river carry
each needful part of the whole?
Can we not learn from your walk?

Can we not? I murmured and fell back
exhausted
she would not release my hand but followed
kneeling in puffs of vibrant cloth
beside me

A heart that struggles toward truth makes its own peace
she whispered as I closed my eyes
sun warm on my body
I do not need to see your path to know your truth
- her hand caressing my arm -
can we find in this knowledge, hope?
her hand moved gently up to my shoulder, leaning
in until she became me
again

(c) slc 1997

you

I serve you in the shadows
slipping from deed to deed
always within sight of you
yet hiding
when you look my way

I love you with the fervor and faith
of a child toward her father
trusting you are there, knowing you are there
but
I cannot look you in the eye

I am so very weak, and sad
I find in myself treasures
which I seek to offer you
but they crumble into dust
when your light pierces my darkness

I stand there, tears streaming
embarrassed, heartsick, grieved beyond words
the kindness in your eyes
only crushes me more
for I cannot even receive it

Then you do the kindest thing of all
you turn your gaze away
I scurry back to the shadows, and service
knowing you know I love you
although I do not deserve yours in return


(c) 1996 susanna l. cornett

Why

Crisp, cool, a breeze rustles through
newly budding trees
Soft gentle blue envelopes the sky
as puffy clouds slip lazily past

You ask why I believe in God
why my heart speaks His name
why I love Him with my soul
why my life seeks to obey Him

The earth in all its symmetry
speaks, not loudly, not harshly
but with unceasing persistence
of the mind of a Creator
who must have seen glory in a hummingbird's wing
delight in the infinite crystalline kaleidoscope of snow flakes
humor in a platypus's awkward beak
heaven in the first tentative smiles
of a newborn baby
nestled in his mother's arms

A Creator who made this beauty
and then someone to share it
still again - someone to share with the first
creating love

You ask how I love this Creator
How could I not?
Like a wise and tender Father
He leads me through my life
He does not tell
He asks
Sometimes I say no
even when I know
His way is best
He loves me anyway

If I had a son
I would love him more than parched earth loves rain
than daffodils love spring
than life itself
my soul withers at the thought of giving my son
to anyone, for any reason, to cause him pain
but my Father did that
for me
How can I not love Him?
For otherwise, I would die.

You ask why, and how, I love my Father
the Creator, Jehovah, God
I ask you, how can I not?
When He is my best friend
even when I have been
no friend to Him.

He wraps me in His arms
He offers me His shoulder
to cry on
and He loves me
all over again.

(c) 1996 susanna l. cornett

Dawn

In the soft silent night
Dawn's gentle voice whispers
"The baby is coming"
Those sitting vigil
wonder.

Many miles away
as the sun touches the earth
with a tender caress
new life flows through
a tunnel of tears

For a time they share
the earthly realm
One for whom life was too short, too sad,
unkind
One whose life brings hope and sweet healing

As the sun paints the horizon
with a glorious farewell
Dawn slips into the final night
released from this life
by new life

Goodbye...i loved you

(c) 1996 susanna cornett

passion

The dailiness of life swirls around me
my thoughts fly to you
sounds scenes fade to nothing
I remember the touch of your hand
through my hair the feel of your breath
on my lips the warmth of your body
touching mine
from here
to there

In my mind I see your eyes, cornflower blue
your lips full, opening toward me
the rasp of your cheek on my tender skin
sending gentle shivers here
and there
spreading heat, like flaming brandy
hot, biting, sweet
intoxicating

Life swirls into focus again
taking away my dreams
but leaving the ache
for you.

(c) susanna cornett 1997

voice

words swirl golden
thick, rich, like
molasses from a pale blue Ball jar
poetry in deep amber
distilled life

Promise shadowed
by the barrier that keeps it inside
enticing, inviting
tightly held
inside

the vessel of my mind
holds my soul captive
the world only sees
through the glass darkly
admiring but afraid

to open is to see
voluptuous thought expressed
gentle, warm, sweet
pungent, embracing
the hidden places where
hearts roam free
unfettered
unseen
protected

please do not let
my voice stay silent
please taste
from the pale blue Ball jar
do not leave it
pristine
on the shelf of
unlived dreams


(c) 1997 susanna cornett

we had a blast in Atlanta

warm sweat trickled down our backs as we sat
rapt
strong young women and men who had lived
their whole lives for these two weeks
of time
walked slowly, proudly, into the arena
where they would be tested

we watched in awe as with fluid grace
heroes of our time
soared into the air
knifed through water
speared the shifting winds with arrows, bullets,
bicycles
their own bodies
challenging our understanding of limitations

in an overflow of exuberance we gathered
in a warm caressing Southern night
at day’s end
those who had watched the feats from
coveted stadium benches
those who merely wanted to touch, to feel
the joy, the strength, the celebration of body,
endurance, courage, patriotism, hope
who had no tickets to see them embodied, but
felt them in their hearts anyway

in that darkness music flowed
lifting us up higher, pressing bodies
moving with the happiness of youth
in a place where all nations share
the harmony with no barriers
a boom split the night
a musical climax? screams say otherwise
bodies now pressing for escape
as some lay weeping

sadness attends the watchers
the day after
as the soaring, the patriotism, continue
hope seems further away
harmony a struggle to find
as grim-faced men seek the one who
shattered our peace
reminding us the smallness of a selfish evil
can tarnish the most precious of gold

warm sweat trickles down our backs as we sit
rapt
strong young women and men who lived
their whole lives for these two weeks
of time
walk slowly, proudly, into the arena
where they were tested
and proved their mettle
we too were tested, we too were proved
and we will leave this place saying

we had a blast in Atlanta



(c) 1996 susanna cornett

Dunblane

"May God take better care of you than this world ever did"
the words burn in our hearts as
sweet innocence dissolves
into flowing blood and ceaseless anguish
and we wonder
why

A grandfather hugs his granddaughter
"Goodbye, Joanna"
she runs to her classroom
he does not know
the goodbye is forever

A teacher watches her charges
run and play, scream and laugh
suddenly a man appears at the door
stern, silent, deadly, spraying bullets
She dives to protect the children
she dies too

Tiny bodies, lifeless
a medieval carnage ripping
joy from the world for at least
one day, one week
how long?

Each day before, each day after
hard hands of fathers break their children's hearts
leaving bruises inside and out
bullets cleave sons from their weeping mothers
in places we have not been
a slow and wretched death
swells the belly of a sobbing hungry child
and we cry for the children of Dunblane

"Time and chance happenth to us all"
the Preacher said
oh how swift time
and how wicked chance
we seek goodness in an evil world
and come up empty-handed

We cannot bring back the children
we cannot stem the pain
we cannot stop the carnage
we cannot excise the evil
we can only say

"May God take better care of you than this world ever did"

(c) 1996 susanna cornett

(Written following the shooting of kindergarten children and their teacher at an elementary school in Dunblane, Scotland. The opening and closing lines were taken from a sign placed in the school's yard by a local resident.)