What is it about a word that wends its way into your very being and then insists on staying awhile, till you begin to notice its connection to whatever it is you are experiencing?
Linda Mitchell offered this month’s reflection, prompted by “an earworm” word: turning.
Nestled in her post is a consideration of those who have “fallen out of the habit of face-to-face worship.” While the pandemic was definitely a hard stop for me, I have yet to return to mass. I haven’t been able to put sufficient words to why – yet. But Linda’s prompt brought forth in me this poem.
My brother-in-law died two years ago.
A Turning
a place where a road branches off another
I hadn’t paid attention
to the turning
was it a Y?
the road branched
I paused
where mule ear droop
a knowing nod to brittle leaf
a bitter leave
all summer
streams bled the mountains dry
I wiped dust from sandals
they did not listen
leave them
like your last breath
I listened
sorrow erupting
empty arms
she watched you leave
a road branches
the mule ear nod
bitter leaf
bleeding streams
I slow-walked a turning road
hold those last days deep
love in touch
love in grief
witness to beauty rendered
in death
prayer eludes, toys with me
like a fairy’s promise
in darkness
yet, a turning
a heart weakens
laden wisdom of ancients
it cannot carry
the burden of darkness
not when wildflowers dance
not when snow sparkles
on a distant August day
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
August 3, 2023
Find Linda’s reflection here, along with other friends sharing their Spiritual Journey this month.
Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
… “a brittle leaf/bitter leaf is a beautiful image of a “traditional “ faith come undone…
hmmm…I didn’t see that coming. Thank you.
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
Thank you, Joyce.
Oh my, Patricia, your words are poignant, powerful, and I resonate with them. Your repetition of “the road, turning, mule ear droop, mule ear nod, brittle leaf, a bitter leave, bitter leaf, streams bled the mountains dry, bleeding streams, they did not listen, I listen, love in touch, love in grief” are effective. I especially love these lines, “toys with me
like a fairy’s promise
in darkness
yet, a turning” and what a beautiful ending
“not when wildflowers dance
not when snow sparkles
on a distant August day” to your therapeutic poem.
Patricia, thank you for sharing your pain and honesty in this post. Your poem has moved me and helped me. I hope it has helped you, too. Hugs.
Isn’t it interesting how we have no idea what the ripple effect of our words might be?
I’m glad they resonated for you, Gail. Thank you for your note.
Patricia, sometimes the turns in our lives are sharp and we can’t help but notice them. Other times they are so subtle that we wonder how we got to where we are without noticing. Even though we can’t always put into words what we are thinking or feeling, our hearts and minds know. We trust them and know that they will lead us to a place we need to be that is right for us. I believe that not all prayers come with words. The life we lead is also a prayer and one that is just as powerful as any words we can say.
I’m a believer that the Holy Spirit groans within us – especially when words won’t come.
Thank you, Bob.
Patricia: Thank you for this beautiful and heartfelt post. Your poem speaks profoundly of grief and the broken world we live in. I love the words that surface in your poetry: the mule ear droops. May the turns ahead bring some comfort.
Words are such a mystery, aren’t they.
Patricia, I am not sure why my response did not surface but I do want to tell you that your deepest thoughts are exposed in this beautiful poem. I read the columns down and across unlocking your thoughts that flowed like holy water from your hands to mine. What happens when we unveil our heart’s thoughts is a blessing to others. I have read your poem so many times and each time there is a new message found.
prayer eludes, toys with me
like a fairy’s promise
in darkness
yet, a turning
Sometimes, prayer does not come easily but others times it is filled with gratitude for the small and large blessings. We find peace in turnings filled with thankfulness and hurt when sorrow fills the darkness. Thank you for this honest flow of thoughts. May you find peace within new words.