A Memorial Day Tribute

MY ADOPTED SOLDIER

For Cpl. R. J. Roberts, USMC

America at War in Iraq – March, 2003

The message on my computer screen

said click on The Presidential Prayer Team –

the Adopt Our Troops link

and be given a soldier to pray for

until the end of the war

I don't know any soldiers

stationed in Iraq, personally

soldiers who startled us with Shock & Awe

soldiers who endured stinging sand

blazing days and shivery desert nights

Don't know any who engaged in combat

manned planes, copters and tanks

or risked biological warfare

during that arduous trek to Baghdad

Don't know any at all

so I clicked on the website

…but was unable to access the link

When the morning paper arrived

the front page held a full color photo

of a British medic

examining a newborn Iraqi baby

cradled in a cardboard box

with the flaps torn off

I placed my hand upon the soldier

Jesus, bring him home, whole

laid my hand upon the infant

O Lord, please have him grow up

safe and strong

in a land free of terror…

At work, later that morning

a co-worker approached my counter

softly singing a hymn

How lovely to hear singing

in times like these, I remarked

My son left Tuesday, she said

Our eyes locked

mother to mother

I'd like to adopt your son, I told her

I'll pray for him every day

until he comes home

He is a Marine, she said

serving in the air delivery platoon

Cpl. R. J. Roberts

He'll be on the ground

distributing supplies in Iraq

I know he'll return

Our pastor prophesied

a few years ago

that R. J. will become a preacher

He's not a preacher yet…

though I suppose

there's a very good chance

he may be preaching right now

When I got home

I fastened a yellow ribbon

to my front porch railing

Maude Carolan

The Circumcised Heart

Photo Credit: www.ideachampions.com

THE CIRCUMCISED HEART

There was no mohel

no Bris Milah on my eighth day

no drop of blood

from my cloven heart

So, when and how it happened

cannot be pinpointed

Perhaps it occurred

when I read Moses’ face shone

after he was in the presence

of the Lord, on the mountain

or that David danced

uninhibitedly before the Ark

out of impassioned love for God

or perhaps when I heard Boaz

put his covering

over the gentile Ruth

and became her kinsman redeemer

Oh, it might have been

when I made aliyah in ’86 or ‘87

or again in 2006

each time praying                                  

at the Wall and the Tomb

or it may have happened

upon becoming utterly awestruck

at the Little Cupula of the Tablets

or possibly the night we sang

every carol we knew

in the shepherd field of Bethlehem

It could even have been

when I drank water from

the ancient Jacob's Well

or experienced sunrise over the Dead Sea

dreaming of the Great Day

when fish will thrive

and vegetation bloom, miraculously

in its healed waters

It may well have been

the sight and smell of the land

as I walked in the footsteps

of my Jewish Savior

or when my heart

caught fire while reading

the melodious Psalms

or Solomon's Song of Songs

or as I poured over the account

of Peter's prison praise

Actually it probably was when

I received blessed assurance

that I am eternally saved

by the Blood of the Lamb…

All I know is

some way, somehow

something happened

to spiritually circumcise

this gentile heart

making it echad^[1]

with the Heart of the God

of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob

and I haven’t for a moment

been the same

since—

Hallelujah!

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1] one

An earlier version of this poem was published in my first chapbook (no longer available for purchase), "The Circumcised Heart".

Remembering My Mom on Mother's Day

 Photo Credit: HappyHolidays2014.com

THE COAT

Mother was satisfied

with the two dresses

she alternated wearing

to her salesclerk job

at Quackenbush’s.

When she’d arrive home,

she’d change into a house dress

and hang the dress she wore

on the clothesline to air.

Mother was satisfied

with her old winter coat.

It was warm enough.

It didn’t matter to her

that the sleeves

were beginning to fray.

Whenever there was

leeway in the budget,

she bought for us.

She could wait.

She was satisfied.

When I turned sixteen,

my first job was at Woolworth’s.

I was paid ninety cents an hour

to work after school and Saturdays;

brought home twelve dollars a week.

I gave a portion to my father,

bought my own clothes,

paid for bus fares, lunches, books,

and saved.

One day I saw it

on a rack in The Mart,

a nice gray wool coat

with neatly folded unfrayed cuffs.

Nothing fancy,

just new and neat

and on sale.

I wrapped it for her birthday,

January eighth,

but gave it to her

in early December.

It was the first time

I’d given her

more than a trinket.

Maude Carolan

The year was around 1960, five years before my dear mother passed away. That was a very long time ago, but memories of her are still very much alive in my heart. This poem was previously published in the "Paterson Literary Review".

Let's Give All the Tired Moms a break...

fluffybabyshop.com

ALL THE WOMEN I KNOW ARE TIRED

Dead tired

I see it in their strides

their slumped shoulders

their shuffling feet

as they drag themselves

through their tasks

I see it in their uncovered yawns

their dull expressions

the darkness below

their lusterless eyes

All the women I know

are weary, drained

unfocused

they stare into refrigerators

they stare out windows

they stare at papers

they try to remember

what they intended to do next

All the women I know

shower rather than bathe

drive rather than walk

phone rather than visit

They dream about

what they hope to do

when there's

time

All the women I know

are sleep deprived

up too early

down too late

rest-less

as they try

to get it all done

They can't get it all done

there's not enough time

All the women I know

are tired

Dog tired

especially during the holidays

because they love, they

shop and clean

cook and bake

wrap, decorate

send cards

invite

invite

invite

They're exhausted

especially those who go to work

especially those who go to work

and have children

especially those who go to work

and have old, ailing parents

All the women I know

fall asleep over teacups

in the evening

or over a book

or over the bills

or in front of the TV

All the women I know

believed the lie

drilled into them

in the 70's

that they could do it all

be it all

have it all

all what

all is nothing

when they languish

in their shoes

Maude Carolan


Mother's Day is Sunday, May 11th. Try to think of something you can do to pamper a mother or give a mother a break. What a blessing that will be!

The above poem won an honorable mention in the national Allen Ginsberg Poetry Contest.