For Love Of A Blackbird
The pastor preaches passionately about Truth
Exposing the lies Pilate
Spins to the crowd outside.
(She could have preached it in another church earlier and called it “Face the Nation.”)
In yet another inner sanctum, Cory Booker
Exposes the lies spit at another prophet on the docket
And the beat goes on, La de da de de.
And the beat goes on, La de da de de
Meanwhile, on the lush shore of a quarter-mile long lake
The crisp and clear one-tone-tune of the mating
Red Wing Blackbirds preaches truth to my soul:
One true tune can stop a lie in its tracks.
Oh, for the love of a blackbird.
c. Rita Hemmer Kowats March 27, 2022
Prayer for the Morning
With this new day, we open our
eyes and we pray: God, inhabit our
seeing. Live in our looking. Be our
vision and our sight. Illumine us,
that we may perceive you, know
you, welcome you in all the ways
you go hiding in this world.
Amen.
Jan Richardson In The Sanctuary of Women: A Companion for Reflection And Prayer
Some Questions for Reflection Today
How do we seek God?
Where do we perceive the presence of the holy?
How far are we willing to go to find it?
What feeds our minds and imaginations in our searching?
How does our hunger for God impact our other relationships—with institutions and systems and other people?
How do we claim and create our own visionary spaces…?
Jan Richardson In the Sanctuary of Women: A Companion for Reflection And Prayer
Winter 2015
I heard the sabers rattling
In digital space last night,
The same sabers heard in ‘90 and ‘03.
The blade smiths deftly forged their words
Hard as metal and plunged
Them into the furnace of fear
Where they shaped and tempered them
Into the fine point
That is called war.
Today I listen for the words
Of prophets rising above the din of sabers,
Their words clear and clean and true
Forged in the furnace of their souls
Shaped and honed by a justice
Crafted with eyes wide open.
I summon the prophet
Who lives in the furnace of my own soul:
“Come forth!”
c. Rita Hemmer Kowats
December 2015
Spring 2022
The blade smiths are busy in Ukraine
As I grieve for a neighbor who died yesterday.
Loved ones draped his coffin with the flag
That stood at attention in the alcove of his apartment.
They donated his prosthetic legs to the next victims
Of the boys in the back room.
“Oh, when will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?”
Today Pete Seeger’s lyrics wafted
Over the shower stall at the YMCA
And froze me on the battlefield of Ukraine.
Joining in on the next verse I felt that prophet
In the furnace of my soul
Rising
Resolving
Replacing complacence with justice.
We sang the whole song,
Strangers standing together at last
In the hushed silence of truth laid bare.
c. Rita Hemmer Kowats
March 14, 2022
This morning after I swam with my 60’s generation peers I heard this in the next shower, ”Oh, when will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?” I joined in singing to the last verse. I cried. She said she couldn’t get it out if her head today and I responded ironically , ”I wonder why.” “What a fire in the belly (Marge Piercy)” this experience was for me. May we learn soon.
Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the young girls gone, long time passing?
Where have all the young girls gone, long time ago?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Gone for husbands everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the husbands gone, long time passing?
Where have all the husbands gone, long time ago?
Where have all the husbands gone?
Gone for soldiers everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time passing?
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time ago?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Gone to flowers everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
The 1955 song by Pete Seeger, who died on Jan 28, 2014. He was 94 years old. This is one of the most familiar American folk songs.
Spirituality Without Borders: Reflections on Spiritual Practice 