Holy as a Day is Spent

Holy is the dish and drain
The soap and sink and the cup and plate
Warm wool socks and the cold white tile

Shower heads and good dry towels
And frying eggs sound like psalms
With bits of salt measured in my palm
It's all a part of a sacrament
As holy as a day is spent

Holy is the busy street
The cars that boom with passion's beat
And the check out girl counting change
And the hands that shook my hands today

And hymns of geese fly overhead
And spread their wings like their parents did
Blessed be the dog that runs in her sleep
To chase some wild and elusive thing

Holy is the familiar room
And quiet moments in the afternoon
And folding sheets like folding hands
To pray as only laundry can

I'm letting go of all my fear
Like autumn leaves made of earth and air
For the summer came and the summer went
As holy as a day is spent

Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
And the empty page and the open book
Redemption everywhere I look

Unknowingly we slow our pace
In the shade of unexpected grace
And with grateful smiles and sad lament
As holy as a day is spent

And morning light sings providence
As holy as a day is spent

--Carrie Newcomer

In The Season of Tissues

 

My mother believed,
            Well, she believed a lot of things
Like pocketbooks and shoes should match,
Lettuce must be torn and not cut,
And Richard Nixon was a crook.
But
She also believed that everything
From colds to flu
To upset stomachs
To a broken heart,
Could be mended
If not outright cured
With soda crackers and warm ginger-ale.
Toss in a couple of red and white cans
Of Cambell's chicken noodle soup
And there you'd have it,
An entire professional pharmacopeia
In a brown paper bag.

But mostly,
It was the love I remember,
The cool hand on my forehead,
The smell of Vapo-rub on my chest,
The way she'd check-in regularly,
Or let me wrap up in a blanket on the couch,
And watch her favorite soap opera,
As she ironed shirts and pillow cases.

That is why I always have soda crackers
And cans of soup in my pantry,
You never know when the most simple gesture
Will be just what the doctor ordered,
When a bit of flour and water
And a little something sweet,
Might help bring down a fever
Or lighten a burden.

I think this is why my daughter,
(who is now a grown woman living in a busy urban center)

Will still call me when she's "meepy"

Which is the word we use to describe

Feeling a little flu-ish and vulnerable,

And I'll call her "honey" and "poor baby"

And ask if her husband can stop on his way home

For soda crackers and ginger ale,

Maybe some soft tissues

The ones with aloe in them.

And she always says "Thanks Mom"

And I always think "Thanks Mom"

And the whole world feels more tender

More caring,

More worthy of saving,

Because love continues to hold steady

In large and small ways

Resonating for generations

Or lightening our days

Right here and right now,

In the season of tissues.

--Carrie Newcomer

Send Love, It Matters

 

Somewhere someone needs help.
Send love.
It matters.

If you can't get there yourself,

Then take a deep breath.

Breathe in the weight of their troubles.

Breath out and send all those burdens

Into the Light

Where sorrows can be held

With the most tender and infinite grace.

Breathe in what you can do.

Breath out what you can't change.

Spool out a thread of connection,

Send courage and calm.

For the nights can be long

And filled with shadows,

And sometimes terrible

Unexpected waters will rise.

Somewhere someone needs help.

Send love.

It matters.

--Carrie Newcomer

Every Little Bit of It

 

Just beyond my sight,
Something that I cannot see,
I've been circling around a thought,
That's been circling round me.

Like the vapor of a song,
That is just out of earshot,
And I thought I knew the question,
But I guess not.

There it is just below the surface of things,
In a flash of blue, and the turning of wings.
Drain the glass, drink it down, every moment
Of this,
Every little bit of it, every little bit.

I swam against the tide,
I tripped on my own pride,
So I'll try again today,
To get out of my own way.

The face was always in the stone,
Said Michelangelo,
We just have to chip and clear,
To see what is already there.

There it is just below the surface of things,
In a flash of blue, and the turning of wings.
Drain the glass, drink it down, every moment
Of this,
Every little bit of it, every little bit.

There it is in the apple of every new notion,
There it is in the scar healed over what was
Broken,
In the branches, in the whispering, in the
Silence and the sighs,
And the curious promise of limited time.

It's true although it's hard,
A shadow glides over the ridge.
And one fast beating heart,
Tries with all its might to live.

We sense but can't describe,
From the corner of our eye
Something nameless and abiding,
And so we keep transcribing.

There it is just below the surface of things,
In a flash of blue, and the turning of wings.
Drain the glass, drink it down, every moment
Of this,
Every little bit of it, every little bit.
Every little bit of it.

--Carrie Newcomer

Becoming

 

Water becomes rain,

And then becomes stream,

Which then becomes river,

Becomes ocean,

Becomes mist,

Becomes fog,

Becomes rain,

Which slides down the rocks,

And is taken into the ground,

And then taken up by the plants,

Animals and birds and people.

It becomes the sweat of the brow,

And the tears slipping down,

Upon a shirt that has been slept in.

Evaporating into air,

It remains invisible for a while. Then,

After a time,

It becomes dew which burns off

As the liquid sun rises,

Becoming mist,

Becoming cloud,

Becoming rain.

Nothing is ever really gone,

It only transforms.

--carrie newcomer

Kindness

 

Kindness is human size,

Honest and doable,

Softening even the hardest of days,

The country cousin to love,

Unpretentious,

And daily,

And completely possible.

It takes out its earbuds

And listens to your story.

It gives up its seat on the bus

And hums in the kitchen,

Washing dishes when nobody asked it to.

And more often than not,

If I start with a little kindness

Love is usually following

Just a few steps behind,

Nodding and smiling

And saying,

"That's the way it's done."

"Yes, honey,

That's the way it is done."

--carrie newcomer

Making Sense

Finding what makes sense
In senseless times
Takes grounding
Sometimes quite literally
In the two inches of humus
Faithfully recreating itself
Every hundred years.
It takes steadying oneself
Upon shale and clay and solid rock
Swearing allegiance to an ageless aquifer
Betting on all the still hidden springs.

You can believe in a tree,
With its broad-leafed perspective,
Dedicated to breathing in, and then out,
Reaching down, and then up,
Drinking in a goodness above and below
It’s splayed and mossy feet.
You can trust a tree’s careful
and drawn out way
of speaking.
One thoughtful sentence, covering the span of many seasons.

A tree doesn’t hurry, it doesn’t lie,
It knows how to stand true to itself
Unselfconscious of its beauty and scars,
And all the physical signs of where
and when It needed to bend,
Rather than break.
A tree stands solitary and yet in deepest communion,
For in the gathering of the many,
There is comfort and courage,
Perseverance and protection,
From the storms that howl down from predictable
Or unexplainable directions.

In a senseless time
Hold close to what never stopped
Making sense.
Like love
Like trees
Like how a seed becomes a branch
And compost becomes seedlings again.
Like the scent at the very top of an infant’s head
Because there is nothing more right than that. Nothing.

It is all still happening
Even now.
Even now.

—Carrie Newcomer (2020)

[Photo from Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe]

Three Feet or So

When I'm weary lost or sad
Overwhelmed or just fed up
I say grace for what I have
And most the time that is enough

We are body, skin and bones
We're all the loss we've ever known
What is gone is always near
We're all the love that brought us here

[Chorus]
And the things that have saved us
Are still here to save us
It's not out there somewhere
It's right here, it's right here

If I start by being kind
Love usually follows right behind
It nods its head and softly hums
Saying "Honey that's the way it’s done."

We don't have to search for love
Wring our hands and wring our hearts
All we have to do is know
The love will find us in the dark

[Chorus]
And the things that have saved us
Are still here to save us
It's not out there somewhere
It's right here, it's right here

I can't change the whole world
But I can change the world I know
What's within three feet or so

We are body, skin and bones
We're all the love we've ever known
When I don’t know what is right
I hold it up into the Light
I hold it up into the Light
I hold it up into the Light

--Carrie Newcomer (Lyrics)

A Circle of Seasons

This is how we love
In the golden light of autumn.
We know what is coming
And so we walk further
And longer
Just to feel it and live it,
And take it
Completely and joyously
Into our hearts.

But let go we must
Although we resist,
As surely as each leaf
Bids farewell to the branch,
Launching and lifting
Into the air.

Late autumn is the season
Of abundance and loss,
The harvest comes in,
The gardens are made ready.
The nights are getting longer,
And every day the leaves fall
Like so many golden coins.

But this loss does not feel
Like the wailings of grief.
It is more like the final notes
Of beautiful song,
When we lean into the ache
Of those last vibrations,
Our hearts broken open,
Empty hands reaching
As the sound fades
Into soft memory.

The dark nights are coming,
But they are not here yet.
So let us be grateful
For what was and what is,
For the air filled with rain
And dust
And the circling descent
Of fire colored leaves.

--Carrie Newcomer (excerpt)

Three Gratitudes

Every night before I go to sleep
I say out loud
Three things that I am grateful for,
All the significant, insignificant
Extraordinary, ordinary stuff of my life.
It's a small practice and humble,
And yet, I find I sleep better
Holding what lightens and softens my life
Ever so briefly at the end of the day.
Sunlight and blueberries,
Good dogs and wool socks,
A fine rain,
A good friend
Fresh basil and wild phlox,
My father's good health,
My daughter's new job,
The song that always makes me cry,
Always at the same part,
No matter how many times I hear it....

And after three things,
More often than not,
I get on a roll and just keep on going,
I keep naming and listing.

Until I lie grinning,
Blankets pulled up to my chin,
Awash with wonder
At the sweetness of it all.

--Carrie Newcomer

Because There is Not Enough Time

I used to think

That because life is short 


I should do more be more

squeeze more

into each and every day.

I’d walk around with a stick ruler

with increasing numbers

as the measure of fullness.

But lately

I’ve sensed a different response

to a lack of time.

Felt in my bones

The singular worth

of each passing moment.

Perhaps the goal is not to spend this day

Power skiing atop an ocean of multi-tasking.

Maybe the idea is to swim slower

surer

dive deeper

and really look around.

There is a difference between

A life of width

and a life of depth.

by Carrie Newcomer

A Blessing for Today

A Blessing for today...not just A day, but Your day

May you wake with a sense of play, an exultation of the possible,
May you rest without guilt, satisfied at end of a day well done.
May all the rough edges be smoothed, when to smooth is to heal,
And the edges be left rough, when the unpolished is more interesting
Or honorable as a pot of soup.
May you find forgiveness from the past, which cannot be changed
And wisdom that comes only with an unchangeable past.
May you wear your years like a well-tailored coat
Or a brave sassy scarf
And may every year yet to come, be one more bright button
Sewn on a hat you wear at a tilt.
May the deep friendships you’ve sown grown tall as summer corn.
May all that is shining and momentary rise into the air
Sending seeds into the wind like wild dandelion fluff.
And may you embrace This day,
Not just as A day,
But as Your day,
Held in trust
a wild and grateful
Now.

-carrie newcomer

Sanctuary

Will you be my refuge
My haven in the storm
Will you keep the embers warm
When my fire’s all but gone?
Will you remember
And bring me sprigs of rosemary
Be my sanctuary
’Til I can carry on
Carry on
Carry on

This one knocked me to the ground
This one dropped me to my knees
I should have seen it coming
But it surprised me

Will you be my refuge
My haven in the storm
Will you keep the embers warm
When my fire’s all but gone?
Will you remember
And bring me sprigs of rosemary
Be my sanctuary
’Til I can carry on
Carry on
Carry on

In a state of true believers
On streets called us and them
Its gonna take some time
’Til the world feels safe again

Will you be my refuge
My haven in the storm
Will you keep the embers warm
When my fire’s all but gone?
Will you remember
And bring me sprigs of rosemary
Be my sanctuary
’Til I can carry on
Carry on
Carry on

You can rest here in Brown Chapel
Or with a circle of friends
Or quiet grove of trees
Or between two bookends

Will you be my refuge
My haven in the storm
Will you keep the embers warm
When my fire’s all but gone?
Will you remember
And bring me sprigs of rosemary
Be my sanctuary
’Til I can carry on
Carry on
Carry on

--Carrie Newcomer