poem –

Manifesto

July 25, 2019 by Melodye Shore

And if we can’t save the world,
and who says we can’t, then
let us try anyway. Perhaps
we have no superhuman powers—
can’t see through buildings,
can’t fly, can’t bend the bars of cages—
but we have human powers—
can listen, can stand up to,
can stand up for, can cradle.
And if we can’t imagine
a world of peace, and who
says we can’t, then let us
try anyway. Perhaps we start
tonight—on a Wednesday.
Thursday works, too. Or Friday.
Doesn’t much matter the day.
All that matters is the choice
to meet this moment exactly
as it is, with no dream of being
anyone else but our flawed
and fabulous very self—
and then, wholly present,
bringing this self to the world,
touching again and again what is true.
— Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer (excerpted from MANIFESTO)

Thanksgiving

November 22, 2018 by Melodye Shore

More than these greens tossed with toasted pecans,
I want to serve you the hymn I sang into the wooden bowl
as I blended the oil and white vinegar.

More than honey ice cream
beside the warm pie, I want to serve you the bliss in the apples’ flesh,
how it gathered the sun and carried its luminousness to this table.
More than the popovers, the risen ecstasy of wheat, milk and eggs,
I want to serve you the warmth that urged the tranformation to bread.

Blessings, I want to serve you full choruses of hallelujah, oh so wholly
here in this moment. Oh so holy here in this world.

This beautiful poem, Thanksgiving, was penned by Rosemerry Wahtola Trimmer. All photographs courtesy of my dear friend, Donna Sullivan.

I’m forever grateful for this opportunity to sing at Sunday Brunch with the Harlem Gospel Choir. I’m not a culinary expert by any means, nor am I a professional singer. But I do rattle around in the kitchen some, and I’m all about making a joyful noise!

I suspect that’s why this poem really resonates with me. It speaks to the savory-sweet truths about Thanksgiving. A tasty meal doesn’t require perfect recipes and the just-right serving dishes. It’s all about serving others–meeting your beloveds’ needs with compassion and grace. Abundance is sometimes equated with heaping plates and that uncomfortable, overstuffed feeling that follows. But in fact, a bountiful life is more accurately measured by our generosity of spirit. And here’s the essence of the poem, as I read it: When we prepare food with a song in our hearts, it nourishes everyone who gathers around our tables. And when we are “wholly here in the moment,” we give and receive a gracious plenty.

Your Moment to Shine

November 21, 2018 by Melodye Shore

The moment is here,

the moment you step

forward from fear

into light, the moment

that your soul takes flight.

Burrow no more in darkness

and despair. Dare to show

your radiant self,

the miracle of awakened

energy giving you wings

and the courage to be

human and divine

at the same time.

Passages excerpted from Your Moment to Shine, by Danna Faulds.

America The Beautiful, 2018

July 4, 2018 by Melodye Shore

GHAZAL: AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
by Alicia Ostriker

Do you remember our earnestness our sincerity
In first grade when we learned to sing America

The Beautiful along with the Star-Spangled Banner
And say the Pledge of Allegiance to America

We put our hands over our first-grade hearts
We felt proud to be part of America

I said One Nation Invisible until corrected
Maybe I was right about America

School days school days dear old Golden Rule days
When we learned how to behave in America

What to wear how to smoke how to despise our parents
Who didn’t understand us or America

Only later understanding the Banner and the Beautiful
Lived on opposite sides of the street in America

Only later discovering this land is two lands
One triumphant bully one hopeful America

Sometimes I still put my hand tenderly on my heart
Somehow or other still carried away by America

Independence Day is a raucous celebration of American history, and the cherished ideals on which our nation was founded. We throw big parties, our hearts swelled with pride. Fireworks and campfires…hot dogs and hand-churned ice cream…and oh my stars and stripes, the patriotic songs we all know and love!

But from where I sit, this 4th of July seems a bit more subdued. Aside from the televised performances, that is. I’m wondering if it’s because some of us are a bit conflicted about what it actually means to be citizens of a country that’s increasingly divided, and isolated. We are a nation born of immigrants, forged in the crucible of diversity, but in this gloriously Imperfect Union, it’s become a real challenge to find common ground.

This, too, shall pass. We are a resourceful people, strong and resilient. I’m a realist, but I truly believe we can rise above our current circumstances and become, once again, that shining City Upon a Hill. It won’t be easy, but we’ve survived dark times before and can do it again.

To that end, I was really glad when my friend Jama Rattigan introduced me to Alicia Striker’s poem, earlier this morning. It reads, for me, like a lamentation and a psalm. Perfect for today, because while it holds up a mirror to some very hard truths, it also celebrates everything that’s great and good about this country of ours. We’re still America the Beautiful, even if we’re somewhat harder to recognize of late.

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Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…

June 21, 2018 by Melodye Shore

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.

–Excerpted from “Summer Sun,” by Robert Lewis Stevenson

Happy Summer Solstice! ‘Tis the season for flip-flops and sandy beaches, iced tea and sun-soaked memories. And light, too–we could use more of that. Hope you’ll savor every sweet, juicy moment, and that you’ll share a slice of summer with me, here!

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Contentment

May 1, 2018 by Melodye Shore

When the sun angles low in the late-spring sky, and a hummingbird is resting on a tangerine tree branch, after bathing in the backyard fountain…

We’re nearing the end of National Poetry Month; and while this isn’t a poem in the strictest sense, it’s the joyful stuff of psalms.

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