Winter and Spring 2003

March 15, 2022March 15, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

Editor’s note: In March 2003, U.S. forces invaded Iraq vowing to destroy Iraqi weapons of mass destruction (WMD) and end the dictatorial rule of Saddam Hussein.

My dear

What challenging times these are

Daunting devastating incredible

But believable times

We are living in

Has it always been so

Have there always been men

(Notice I do not include women)

Men who keep threatening

Someone somewhere with something

Men who live inside their heads

Ride their egos to the brink

And isn’t it the rest of us

Who over and over again

Try to pull them back

Perhaps the reason we are here

Do you agree

What a journey it is my dear

As I follow you through the years

As you light the way

You do light the way you know

On this upward climb

Like a spiral a migration circle

Around and around

Higher and higher

And yes these are challenging times

Yes it has always been so

How would we learn

How would we grow

How could we become

Who we’ve become

Without them

This is truth absolute truth

Don’t you agree my dear

*From Thunder from the Mountains, pub.date: 2007
Photo credit: https://bit.ly/37y9XRP

Amiga de mi Corazon (1991)

March 11, 2022March 15, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

Title inspired by a poem, Pal of my Heart, author unknown

given to me in the late 1970s

by Jacquelyn Fowler

“Oh Wendy

No need for fake flowers

Do hope you haven’t searched for them

I want no more

Death does not need things

It stands along”

—From a letter written by Jackie, August 1991

I say to Jackie

Tell me what I should bring you

From Santa Fe

She answers flowers

Those big paper flowers

In purple and turquoise

And the red of my old Mexican serape

So I find paper flowers

In purple and turquoise

And the red of her old Mexican serape

I find them in pink too

And I find them in yellow

Bright as field mustard

Blooming in February

On the hills of San Clemente

And I carry them home

To her

In a brown shopping bag

With Artisanos

Printed in blue on its side

Put on your concha belt

I say to her in my dream

Pull on your suede boots

We’ll go to Chichicastenango now

And buy an olla for your flowers

Or we could fly to Peru

And climb the high snow peaks

The ice peaks

Where spaceships land behind midnight

In light from quartz crystals

That reflect a trillion stars

That reflect our years

God will listen to us there

She and I know each other

Across a thousand generations

Of Seagulls

Our sons have become men

Our words turn the ocean’s breath

Into poems

While a tin angel

Rusting in the night air by her window

Sings a te deum

Amiga de mi corazón

I have no more words

I have no song

But here are a few ordinary

Paper flowers

I carried home in a shopping bag

Tell Death to look the other way

Look the other way Death

When I give them

To you

*From Poets are the bravest, pub.date: 2001

An Overview of the New Administration (1968)

March 10, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

Editor’s note: The 1968 United States elections were held on November 5, and elected members of the 91st United States Congress. The election took place during the Vietnam War, in the same year as the Tet Offensive, the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, and the protests of 1968. The Republican Party won control of the presidency. … Republican former Vice President Richard Nixon defeated Democratic incumbent Vice President Hubert Humphrey. [Source: Wikipedia https://bit.ly/3pUyAOO] The following poem was written amidst the frustration, anger, and fear that permeated American hearts and homes.

Who will give warning this time

Is there anyone who will take the hot coals

Into the hands and throw them into the winds

And let the hot ashes fall onto the ground

There isn’t any corn to feed the children now

Only stubble of stalks and hard dry skeletons of silk

If you put your ear to the ground

You will hear the far off rumble of voices

Once there was a time we could hear the corn grow

Now it is the rumble of voices that gathers the harvest

Now the rumble of discontent grows into black clouds

That pour the hailstones into our outstretched hands

That melt into nothing

There is no one to give warning

No one to listen

The rumble we hear from the earth

Has grown into a roar and spreads like lava

Over the ground

And soon the ashes from Watts and Chicago and Harlem

The hunger of children and the tears of Vietnam

Are swept away

And all that is left is the wound into which

We all will bleed

*From Poets are the bravest, pub. date: 2001
Photo credit: https://bit.ly/3tQdBhg

CNN World Report (1994)

March 9, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

Editor’s note: As written in the previous post, Wendy has set war at the center of her poetry since the 1960s. As the Russian war on Ukraine enters its second week, we have chosen to upload a selection of (sadly relevant) War Poems that were originally published within her four anthologies. This poem, titled “CNN World Report”, was published in Wendy’s first book of poetry, Poets are the bravest, which was printed in 2001. As Wendy continues her daily meditation practice, she focuses on shrouding the innocent people of Ukraine with healing light, as she prayers for world peace, which has become one of the most valuable and valued aspects of her life’s work.

There they stand

Bunched together

The way little kids will

When they’re excited

In the middle of what

Was once a street

Where shell fire and shrapnel

Make geometric chunks

Out of the pavement now

And the apartment buildings

Behind them

Into relics

Like ones I remember

From allied bombs

In a part of Florence

Near the Ponte Vecchio

Summer of 1951

But here they are

Being interviewed

Children of Sarajevo

Just children being children

In front of a camera

Even when childhood

Is broken

And cannot mend

The calm voice of an interpreter

Rolls on

Above their high pitched

Clamor

They talk gesture poke each other

All at the same time

Reminding me

Of a flock of noisy birds

In a tree

Until one bird voice

Clear

Like the song of a blackbird

Rises over the others

Quiets them silences them

As the camera picks out

A face

Whose eyes look back

Into the camera’s lens

While the interpreter turns Slavic

Into English

And I hear words

From this child of Sarajevo

Form a question

No one in the world

Will answer

We don’t hate anyone

She says

So why can’t they stop

This stupid war

Months pass

I think of them often

I bless them

And I wonder

Are they alive

*From Poets are the bravest, pub. date: 2001
Photo credit: https://bit.ly/3hPuZNI

Aleppo, Syria

March 5, 2022March 5, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

*Editor’s note: Wendy has set war at the center of her poetry since the 1960s. Another war has begun, and nobody knows when or how it will end. These days, Wendy processes, and often transmutes, her feelings about war, about violence of all kinds, in prayer, even though her feelings are no less strong than they ever were when she was writing about war. She and I agreed that re-publishing older poems in this format serves her readers in that they can continue benefitting from her sensitivity, awareness, compassion, and prayers while she can continue working towards peace in what has become a more productive manner–via meditation and prayer. We hope that these republished poems offer some solace, feelings of connection, and motivation to work through these tough times in your own creative ways.

ALLEPO, SYRIA

Child of Aleppo

Caught in the earth

Caught in debris

Where a bomb

Fell

Hands digging frantically

To release you

As other hands

Gently

Brush dirt

Brush dust

From your face

To keep the miracle

Of your breath

Coming

While you lie still

Your eyes closed

No cry no whimper

Heard

And then

The cameras follow

You

To when you stand

Bathed

Wearing clean clothes

To show the world

This little girl from

Aleppo

Alive and beautiful

As beautiful a child

As ever seen

(February 2, 2014)

Love is the Answer (February 2015)

February 24, 2022February 24, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

“The Light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness

apprehended it not.”

—The Bible, ASV: John 1:5

I made an intent

To myself

It came from Spirit

From my soul

I do not watch

The news

Do not hear

Do not see

Violence

Rained upon

Innocents

Blood spilled from

Those

Who have done no harm

To anyone

But an email

Creeps onto my screen

I read it before

Realizing its contents

My bewilderment turns to

Sadness

Bleeds through my

Veins

Into the core of my

Heart

From where I am

Today

I no longer ask

Why Why

Does it keep happening

I no longer

Wonder

How a human being

Can inflict harm

Take life

From a fellow being

Even a child

I have no answers

Never did

I have no power

To stop these acts

But in faith

I ask

Can you love

Enough

Deep enough strongly

Enough

To send your love

To everyone everywhere

In our world

No matter who they

Are

Can we try

Can you can I

“Love is the answer

To every question” *

Love Love Loving

For me

Our Path to Peace

*A Course in Miracles

What My Ears See (1980)

February 7, 2022February 7, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

When the telephone rings

I answer hello?

Small child says hello back

In a patient mother voice

I ask

Who are you calling?

Who do you want?

Child’s garble forces me to attention

Energy … near 90

January 23, 2022January 23, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

My friend Katie

Somewhere in her late

Eighties

Warned me this

You’ll lose your

Energy

Not me

I silently replied

Katie was right

My energy is

Evaporating

Like air from a

Balloon

With a tiny pin prick

Hole

Slowly slowly

Over the years

Hardly noticeable until

It is noticed

Felt in the body

Matter over mind

And do not look

Back

On what an energized

Body

That puts mind over

Matter

Was able to do

And did

It now becomes

Acceptance

Yes

This is where I am

Today

Who I am

Still me

Only slowed

Things to accomplish

As always

Get accomplished

The finishing perhaps

Coming with vermilion

Clouds

The sun leaves behind

Going wherever it goes

Done for this day

As I also

Am done for this

Day

Then Speak

January 10, 2022January 10, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

A wall of fog

Creeps over me

Slowly obliterating

My sense of

Reality

Of what is being

Talked about

Between you and the

Other

Am I on the

Outside

The opposite

Side

Unseen

My any word

Silenced

Memories come rushing

Back

I am a child

Again

To be seen

But not heard

As the saying goes

Words not my

Own

Whirling over my

Head

Land on me

At Grandmother’s

Every Sunday dinner

Table

My hair my hair

I’d sit mute

Listen to them talk

What to do with

My hair

But now

Am not that

Child

I am a grown

Woman

Who blamed you

For my need to be

Included

Turned the wall of

Fog

Into ice

Then blamed myself

Trying to melt the

Ice

That lingered in my

Heart

Sitting in silence

I say to myself

Grow up

Recognize accept

If you feel left

Out

You put yourself

There

All you have to do is

Speak

Find a pause

An intake of a

Breath

Then speak

the poet & her father, 1939

Blessed be She

January 5, 2022Wendy W. Blumberg

Blessed be She

Who found the small

Mid-Eastern Deli

That reminded her

Of an old New Mexican

Church

Bless its transformation

Into the Unity Church of

Santa Fe

The church with open

Doors

With open hearts

Blessed be She

Who led her congregation

To the doorway of

Understanding

Inviting them to enter

Or remain wherever

They choose to be

Blessed freedom of

Choice

Blessed be She

Who speaks the word of

God

Filtered through the

Mind

Of her understanding

Blessed be She

Who leaves her pulpit

Free

To grow to other levels of

Spirituality

As she closes the book

On her twenty-seven

Blessed years

Years of service

To the blessed Unity Church

Of Santa Fe

Bless you on your way

With our Love

Our blessed memories

Of your years

And our eternal gratitude

Dear Rev Brendalyn Batchelor

Bless

Wendy Wolff Blumberg

Poems, memoir, musings

Author: Wendy W. Blumberg

Winter and Spring 2003

Amiga de mi Corazon (1991)

An Overview of the New Administration (1968)

CNN World Report (1994)

Aleppo, Syria

Love is the Answer (February 2015)

What My Ears See (1980)

Energy … near 90

Then Speak

Blessed be She