Posts Tagged ‘life

29
Sep
09

Calling

Everyone has one –
the churched, the unchurched,
the atheists too –
because it’s a spiritual decision to be an atheist.

We’re not talking about vocation,
or career, or making a living.
It’s about your life’s work –
your life as purpose
your life as revolution.

[copyright 2009] Darren King

23
Oct
08

15th Anniversary (or, why we still hold hands)

15th Anniversary (or, why we still hold hands)
By Darren King [copyright 2008]

Because we know how dangerous
this world can be,
how fragile.
Because we know the power
of words –
how they can hurt,
destroy,
undo,
how they can heal,
mend,
all that we have done
to garrison this union.

Lord knows
I can piss you off
like nobody’s business.
But here we are,
fifteen years later,
after dating
nine and a half weeks
and a nine-month engagement,
just north of forty,
with two children,
one who looks like you,
one who looks like me,
living, as you say, the kit
the corporate job,
the house,
the minivan,
the Saturday soccer games.

But after the children have grown
I want to raise a barn with you
and fill it with your paintings.
And in the other half
my instruments
and you will paint
and I will write music
because time really
doesn’t change who we are,
like that Saturday morning
when the boys were little
and we were rollerblading
in the basement
with your U2 blaring
out of my circa 1987 stereo.
Or like the first night
we met,
a blind date,
when we talked about religion
and politics and relationships,
about being real,
and knowing when something
significant is happening
while it is happening.

02
Oct
08

Honey I get it. I really do.

By Darren King [copyright 2008]

 

There’s the first life you live –
the one where you help
your little boy clean himself
after with limited success
he’s used his big-boy potty seat
and then you wipe up the
cat puke in the foyer
you swiffered the night before
after Letterman.
It’s the life where
piles of laundry rule your space
but you’ve grown to ignore
them as a strong-hold defense
against insanity.
Make the beds, wash the dishes,
vacuum the floors, you’re too
busy to make lists and by evening
you’re waiting for your husband
so you can start dinner.
And when he finally arrives he’s late
and smells of his lunch he ate
peacefully in a nice restaurant
with his colleagues –
all of whom are over the age of four.
He comes in through the front door,
unscrews the top of his head, places his brain
on the table in the hall and asks,
“How was your day?”
Your second life
is the one where you imagine yourself
among your artists acquaintances
on a sunny Thursday afternoon
in a University town,
the streets have been blocked off,
you’re in a white, tented booth
with your name on the outside,
listed above the town you’re from,
your artist booth number.
You sip vendor lemonade as
your shoulders pink over the day
and you talk with attractive,
culturally-sensitive people who
upon approaching your work
ask you many interesting questions –
none of which have to do with laundry,
the best swiffer or pet vomit.
You love your children.
You love your husband.
But at least once a day, every day,
the possibility of your second life
will see you through
the reality of your first.

 

28
Sep
08

berrying

Berrying

“When you are harvesting in your field and you overlook a sheaf, do not go back and get it. Leave it for the alien, the fatherless.” – Deuteronomy 24:19

I keep searching
hoping
to uncover some hidden truth
to glean a revelation
like the poet who stares into a painting
and awaits the spark
when all he sees are dots
acrylic and oil chaos
and randomness
like an unkind god.
But the Lord is kind
and the Lord gives and
the Lord has taken away
and it comes to me
my father’s death
three years ago this day.
His host returning
to the same earth and dust
no hidden truths
no revelations –
only a remembrance
and itchy plants
and cool earth
and strawberries sweetly
suspended in disbelief.

[copyright 2008 Darren King]

28
Sep
08

some choices, some luck, mostly grace

By Darren King [copyright 2008]

I like grocery shopping with my wife.
We don’t do it often. Mostly
when the children are with my in-laws.
Sometimes we catch a movie,
or we end up in a bookstore,
or a coffeehouse,
or the university town near our home.
And sometimes we go grocery shopping.
My wife pushes the cart and makes the choices.
I saunter behind her, or ahead of her.
I keep on an eye on her purse in our cart
while she inspects pineapples or kiwi or strawberries
and tells me the names of vegetables
her Grandma Dorothy grew –
vegetables I’ve never heard of much less eaten.
I check out magazines, books and snacks,
things she repeats we will never buy.
So I drink the free coffee
they offer in the corner of the store.
And it’s then I realize how grateful I am
for my life and the way it has unfolded.




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