Words & Writings

He Loved Trains

I can now only remember
bits and pieces of his face
as if a jigsaw puzzle
had been turned upside down
and there! on the floor
is his crooked-tooth smile,
a pair of blue eyes with pale lashes,
a thatch of hair
the color of blonde strawberries ....

It's difficult, though,
to put the puzzle back together,
as if Time and my memory
conspire to fade
the only mental portrait of my brother
that I have.

Oh, I could pull out
any one of a hundred photos,
but it seems that Kodak is cheating
not to have mementoed the power of his stance,
the strength of arms which held love,
his splay-footed walk ....

But worse,
the sound of his voice
and his laugh -- these are growing still.
They are almost
as quiet as ashes scattered
along railroad tracks
in Virginia.

Written by Pandora Deichert
Published in Mirage 2000
Literary and Arts Magazine

    I was wondering this on the last day of August as I watched the sad news of Princess Diana's tragic death. I didn't consider myself to be a "Di-Groupie," but this was a woman I watched while she was romanced by a prince, and got up with during the wee hours of the morning to share in her wedding. I envied her fashion sense and style, smiled at pictures of her and her new baby boys, and felt sad for her during her divorce. I admired her as a goodwill ambassador and rooted for her as she became more independent and involved with international concerns.
     It seems as if there aren't as many public people who inspire the population as there used to be. Remember when you were growing up? There were heroes in the news, people who you wanted to be like when you grew up.
     Who do kids emulate today? When did it stop being cool to want to be an astronaut or the president, but it's cool for a kid in junior high school to carry a .45 semi-automatic in their backpack?
     But look at the choices. Astronauts are few and far between anymore, and the president ...? Well, it appears that politics and ethics are universes away from each other.
     There are some sports figures who command respect, but most seem to be overpaid and over-rated.
     There are some television personalities who are to be admired ... some writers ... some business people .... Help me out, here! I feel like I'm really fishing to conjur up these faces in my mind!
     Because this is what we're faced with, then I think the "heroes" need to start at home -- as in Mom or Dad or your spouse ... and YOU! We should be made of the honesty and kindness, integrity and moral fibers that used to weave throughout this country and made it great.
     Oh gosh! I'm going to step down off my soapbox before I start waving the flag, but we do need to be aware of how we present ourselves to our family and friends, co-workers and even to strangers! Just remember that someone may be watching you sometime. And wouldn't it be cool if a young mind (or an adult mind, for that matter!) would be thinking, "I want to grow up to be like THAT person!"

Early Morning Prayer

May I never forget
that I am One of a Whole --
each are special
each have needs
and no one is invincible.

Grant me courage
to be compassionate,
whether or not
others understand my tears.

May my heart never
grow cold nor indifferent.
May my eyes never look away.
May my arms never cease to embrace,
my hands never falter to touch.

Grant me courage
to love
with compassion.

Written by Pandora Deichert
Appeared on The Poet's Porch
http://www.thepoetsporch.com
Featured Poet/Artistic Award
July 2000

Exit Off the Interstate

torrential rain
during an autumn evening

while paused in traffic
my windshield wipers
lost the battle

by the roadside stood an old man
holding up a cardboard sign
black ink running teardrops

"Homeless -- will work for food"

someone in a car ahead
made an offering to him
and he limped
as he shuffled to the outstretched hand

all I could do
was stare straight ahead
hands on the wheel
Please don't look at me.
I have no money to give.
I have no work for you.

and the storm
continued

Written by Pandora Deichert
Published in The Prolific Writer's Magazine
Jan/Feb/March Issue 1995
Vol. 95, Issue 5

There are several manzanita bushes below my window. During the late fall and winter, they adorn themselves with small, bright orange berries and lend a splash of color to otherwise understated seasons. Typically, those bushes are low and scrub-like, and I imagine they are close in size to the burning bush that Moses saw.

I just can't imagine what that scene would have been like! Moses was going about his business, tending sheep, and looks over to see a bush on fire that doesn't burn up. Then he hears a voice, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob ...." (Exodus 3:6) I think my knees would have given out.

God actually told Moses that He was sending him to rescue the Israelites. But, you know, Moses objected to the Lord God five times. "Who am I?" "What do I say?" "What if they don't believe me?" "I'm not eloquent." "Please send someone else."

How many times have I said these same things to God? How many times have I argued and debated with my burning bush?

Moses teaches me a lesson. My prayer is becoming, "Lord, I am Your child. Give me the words. Strengthen my faith and trust in You. Show me how. Send me."

" ... I will help both of you [Moses and Aaron] and will teach you what to do."
Exodus 3:15 (NIV)