Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

20170608_181416(Sagrada Familia dominates Barcelona’s skyline)

Sagrada Familia is a Catholic basilica in Barcelona. Construction began in 1882. In 1883 Antoni Gaudi became involved and made it his life’s passion. It was only one quarter complete when he died in 1926. Construction of the basilica relies solely on donations. It is hoped construction will be complete in 2026 – one hundred years after Gaudi’s death.
Sagrada Familia is unlike any of the churches we have seen on our travels and seems to defy description. Eyes feast on a buffet of sights that soar, colours that shade dark to light as they rise to the heavens, facades that carve Christian messages in their towers. Astonish, amaze, admire – wow!DSC01370
(Gaudi’s tomb in a crypt beneath Sagrada Familia)
DSC01366(west facade)
DSC01346(east facade)

We Can Find Hope

broken-web

Anger and tenderness: my selves.
And now I can believe they breathe in me
as angels, not polarities.
Anger and tenderness: the spider’s genius
to spin and weave in the same action
from her own body, anywhere —
even from a broken web.
(Adrienne Rich)

Women’s March Jan21,2017

I’m proud to have marched with men and women who stood up globally to unite against hate, to unite for love, who stood up to shout that all lives matter.

shoulder to shoulder
solidarity grows,
growls to a global roar

Here are the messages from a sampling of signs:
It is time for women to stop being politely angry
Women’s rights are human rights
I march because I refuse to go backwards!
Still we rise
I’m not usually a sign person but Geez!
They call it locker room talk, I call it insecurity
No longer the silent majority
We’re not going away
Our rights are not up for grabs
We are women hear us roar in numbers to big to ignore!

Expect Nothing by Alice Walker

big-snowstorm-pennsylvania

 

Expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.
become a stranger
To need of pity
Or, if compassion be freely
Given out
Take only enough
Stop short of urge to plead
Then purge away the need.

Wish for nothing larger
Than your own small heart
Or greater than a star;
Tame wild disappointment
With caress unmoved and cold
Make of it a parka
For your soul.

Discover the reason why
So tiny human midget
Exists at all
So scared unwise
But expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.

Inspiration from Mary Oliver

Song of the Builders

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God –
 
a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside
 
this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope
 
 
it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.
 
from Why I Wake Early (2004)

Frayed Edges

strop

Glossy waxed floors
smooth as clean shaved skin
reflect everyday busyness.
A white stove and fridge stand stark
like your absence during the week.
The wooden table pushed in a corner
harbours nicks and scrapes
where noisy kids scramble in and out
with mouths still chewing as they leave.

Slippery floors mimic
sticky fingerprints on walls.
A shaving strop hangs by the phone
frayed from angry outbursts
that hone in on pink butts
sharpening fear and resentment
instead of blades.

Steady Drip

glacier ice(personal photo from inside the mouth of a glacier)

we turn the tap
water rushes
roars
sloshes under ice
cascades a cry through mountains
tries to hang on to steep slopes
warning of warming
a Swiss yodel
Suzuki echo
to get our attention
as glacial meltwater spills

our thirst grows

air conditioned car
to air conditioned home
we do not see
peaks slump on the horizon
a lifetime of habits
deposited downstream

polar caps melt
we lick our parched lips

Stealth

cityscape(photo credit: imprm@countach.fm)

Whispering winds carry secrets
over sleepy city streets
gather and swirl
unsuspecting thoughts

Exhausted dwellers walk
through zombie days
focus on one foot
in front of the other

Up and down, over and under
air moves in stealth
a silent intruder

Scarves wrap against it
coats button it out
still it continues
growing
until it Howls

Stream of Thought

Security%20Fence%201
(internet photo)

Noise.
Sounds and smells swirl.
A muddy pile
ready for trash can,
or possibly recycling.

Words recycle themselves
on the page,
powerless to escape
the strike of the pen.
Smooth ink flows.
A river confident in its strength,
its ability to carve landscapes,
reshape its borders.

Boundaries.
Fence posts to navigate.
Or, maybe, grab onto
if the water gets too rough.