Saturday, July 11, 2009

Things I saw while not looking…

A lone robin -- Spring’s ambassador --
hopping tentatively over the tired snow.

Redwing blackbirds calling in raucous warbles
from hidden perches in the frozen marsh.

Three tundra swans banking wide white circles
in the valley below us, on our way home from school.

The sun painting my kitchen a watery yellow
through fingerprinted winter windows.

Lesley-Anne Evans

Thursday, July 09, 2009

You might like me

I long to share things with you
thoughts, feelings, my heart
Yet you choose to talk about the weather
and the son of a long forgotten friend

I’m part of you
I came out of you
Yet you deny the part of me
that I want to give back to you

So, I share in the superficial
join the chatter and fill the dead air
with lifeless words
inside me is me
unspoken, unrealized, unknown

I retreat to my room to my
pen and paper expose,
And wait for the airport farewell
my crocodile tears
the prolonged goodbye
to a cardboard cutout of someone
I want to know better
who smiled and said,
“not today thank you.”

Lesley-Anne Evans, Sept. 2007

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Open Water

Dedicated to my friend Art Suke, 1958-2009

Open Water

Launching at the ‘El.’ is easy,
dry-dock jockey does the work,
lift, drop and go...

Mirages shimmer at the horizon
the sun burning colour from
the bleached blue Okanagan sky.

On the lake it’s 10 degrees cooler.
I cruise south to Okanagan Mountain
no commitments,
no expectations

The lake ahead waits like flat glass while
Albertans take their time at brunch --
their loss, my gain.

Peace, open water, silence as
I cut the engine and the boat settles
into dark wash denim liquid.

Well seasoned fisherman, an eagle
flies large circles overhead.
I watch him watching me
...competition for the morning calm.

I fill my thirsty eyes, my mind, my soul
with a deep and quiet gratitude...
a silent prayer to my Creator,

Who watches, and walks with me,
and knows what lies ahead -- all of it --
open water, life
... eternity...

by Lesley-Anne Evans
Oct. 2008

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Gulls 2

Gulls 2
by Lesley-Anne Evans, Jan. 2008

Gulls are drifting inland on updrafts from the sea.
Wantonly weightless they float overhead,
calling boldly to me of flight and freedom.

Creature of the middle earth I stand in salt spray, toes
sink in wet sand, thoughts sink deeper.
I lift my face skyward, and consider their foreign tongue.

Then, rusty hinges on the screen door and
you call me from the cottage…
warm voice carried on the wind.

I turn,

my heart welcoming the parameters
of love and life.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Lake Stone

I walk to the edge of the water… only yesterday it was rippled by a soft wind moving the surface and my attention had been drawn to the rhythmic sound of the waves. Today the lake is almost silent. Snow is falling unexpectedly as it’s April and time for Spring. But the falling snow adds to the silence, the hush, and I find myself in a holy place.

My eyes are drawn to the stones along the shore. The water level is low at this time of the year, so the rocks are exposed in a way that they never are in summer when I’m down at the beach more regularly.

The stones along the edge of the lake are rounded, beautifully smooth and round and coloured in tones of red and brown and grey. The water is transparently clear, so every rock on the bottom of the shallows is distinguishable. There too, the colours are similar to those on the shore, yet defined by the water they are darker, more dramatic. They too are rounded and smooth.

As I stand and look down at my feet and around me, I can see that there are millions of rocks, each one different and unique. It reminds me of people… side by side and some touching and each one different and unique. Some rocks are in the shallows, some in the deeper water. Some are in the transitional areas along the lake’s edge where they will sometimes be submerged, sometimes exposed. Some are permanently part of the beach… unless someone picks them up and throws them unexpectedly to a different location. Beach stone to lake stone and back is possible with the help of someone, some child perhaps.

What stone am I God, I wondered. Am I on the beach, warm and dry, or am I submerged in water, wet and cool and defined by colours only the water can provide? Am I a stone in the shallows, or the deep?

I sense that I am an emerging lake stone… in the riparian zone where sometimes I am more of the lake and less of the land, yet sometimes the very opposite. My circumstances still change me, storms can move me, and I appear quite different one day from the next. The parallels are not what I’d like them to be… a rock , stable and fixed.

Then I’m reminded of stones of another kind, and it doesn’t matter their origin or their appearance or even their location, rather it matters their purpose and usefulness for the task. I think of the stones that were lifted from the bed of the Jordon River and placed on piles as a sign, altars of worship to the God that delivers. And I desire that for me. That my life be a living sacrifice, each day laid on the altar with other stones as a sign of what God has done. A simple lake stone, emerging and becoming part of something beautiful and significant and pointing to God.

by Lesley-Anne Evans, April 2009

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Dark Lamb

On the morning that you pushed out of
her warm yet constricting comfort;

Did you know --
that you weren’t snow white
pure, and commonly desired?

Did you sense --
the beginning of knowledge in your belly
of things outside commonplace, or
revelations of rebellion?

Did you guess --
as you kicked up your heels
running joyful on your newly dried legs
in stubble not yet promising summer sweet grasses,

that the darkness that set you apart,
might be your complicated saviour?

Lesley-Anne Evans
April 2009

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