Pam Wynn

 

Immigrant to Planet Earth

A snake hisses in the garden.
     An angel falls fluffy cloud through fluffy cloud.
         (Angels can fall like anyone else.)

She could save herself and fly heavenward.
     Back to streets of gold transparent as glass, city walls of jasper
         foundation of sapphires, emeralds, and topaz.

Her heavenly home, a haven of love and peace
     where friends and families reunite, the Promised Land of psalms
         and prophets, no tears, no sadness, perfect in every way.

Therein lies the problem. She craves
     to blaze tense with excitement. To be needed like rain after drought.
         In heaven, she’s just one more perfect being singing hosannas.

That’s why she edged out behind St. Peter
     as others entered the pearly gates.
         That’s why she gave her halo the slip.

Older angels work earth delivering messages, dispelling disbelief
     bolstering devotion, serving dutifully. But who knows how long
         eternity will last?

Her heart fills with heaviness. She’s confused
     unaware she is subject to earth’s gravity.
         She falls faster and faster.

Already she misses the music
     the singing, the dancing
         leaping from star to star.

A crimson cardinal zooms past at eye level
     chased by a devilish blue jay. The sweet
         scent of pine rising from below baffles her.

So much to learn
     and no Angel Handbook to guide her.
         Let’s hope   she remembers how to pray.

 

Bats

Join me. Please.  Watch the sun draw
the day down to the ground and tread
the edge of the field. Twilight—
shadows slip away into dark and disappear.
                                                                   Disappearing
frightens me—the moment I cease to exist
in the eyes of someone, anyone else. My breath
catches in my throat at the last glimpse of light
swallowed by the forest.
                                                                 The forest
frightens me. I’ve never been brave
when it counts. It’s bats that lay claim
to my courage.
                                                                 Courage
fails me in the presence of bats
—wicked creatures. Why else hide
from the light? Why else a whole colony
rushing the innocent
rather than one at a time?
                                                                 Innocent
I am not.  But I believe in God and Jesus,
in justice and mercy. Isn’t this enough
in dark or light?
                                                                 Light
clings to the edge of the earth,
just enough to recognize
the shifting shadow
of a sharp-clawed bat.

 

If You Want to Love

Open your mouth wide
and I will fill it.
Psalm 81:10

Watch the egret
step clear of the rushes
and wade along the edge
of the lake. His dark feet lift gracefully,
one step, two. He spreads his wings, airborne,
soon out of sight. I stir the water
at the edge; it turns to muck.

On the farm after church
squatting in the dirt, I patted out mud pies
with water from the trough. When Granddad preached
the message was always the same:
Love thy neighbor as thyself.

Granddad died. Men exploded planes
inside our country’s heart, a thief
gunned down my boss, a friend
froze to death on the streets.

My mouth
hangs open wide.
 

Pam Wynn is author of Diamonds on the Back of a Snake (Laurel Poetry Collective, 2004). Significantly shaped by her childhood in the Piedmont and Atlantic Coastal regions of North Carolina, her poems integrate her experience of life with her faith. She currently teaches “Poetry in Search of the Holy” and expository writing classes at United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities in New Brighton, Minnesota. In addition, she teaches poetry as a spiritual discipline in a variety of settings including adult education classes, retreats, and in workshops for pastors. She is an advocate for those who are homeless and for affordable housing. Her work has appeared in a variety of regional, national, and international publications. Twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize, she is the recipient of numerous grants and awards including the Jerome Foundation, Minnesota State Arts Board, Anderson Center for Interdisciplinary Studies, New York Mills Arts & Cultural Center, and Walker Art Center.

Copyright © 2006 by Pam Wynn. All rights reserved.

This page published March 2006.

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