deedeewisdom

Four P’s (For Peace)

When haunts of this life
Come forth with a sting
I go to a place with a comforting ring

The place contains things that begin with “P”
I’ll spell them out so you can see

The first is piano I learned as a child
To sit and play
Makes life less wild

The second, my plants
They adorn every room
They soak up sunshine and drive out the gloom

The third are my photos
They’re framed in delight
The smiles they capture bring joy to my life

The fourth are my poems
They come from so deep
The gift arrives swiftly
Sometimes out of sleep

These four “P’s” are precious
Indeed I must say
They also bring to me

Much peace for today

Diane Findlen Garrow

We Are the People

We are the people
We heard Patrick Henry
As he cried “There is no peace.”

We heard Paul Revere
And saw the lantern in the tower

We saw the father of our land
As he crossed the Delaware
As he addressed the brave soldiers

We battled brother against brother at Gettysburg
Our blood remains on that sacred soil

We landed on the beach at Normandy
And saved the world from Hitler

We marched hungry and hopeless at Bataan
We lay in the jungles of Vietnam
Wondering where our leaders were leading us

We are the people

We felt the collapse of the Twin Towers
We suffocated in the dust
And prayed for those around us

We stand together, only knowing
That what we possess is precious
And beyond any one time in history

We stand together, only knowing
That we cannot surrender

Only knowing that what our fathers
Died for
Is what we must live for

Diane Findlen Garrow
2002

The Door

It leaned against the dusty wall
Within the cellar deep
Forgetting all the good it served
In days that now just sleep

Until the gray haired gentleman
Did stir its knob and hinge
To nail it near the kitchen stove
To serve a home again

He fit it, coaxed it, shave it, hung
While in his mind years flashed
Of doors, floors, walls, in homes, schools, halls,
Which he, himself, had patched

The tools, they hummed like violins
He knew them to the core.
And then that piece of wood he held
Was once again a door.

The kitchen now is guarded by
That door, so strong the boards.
As bacon, eggs, and muffins cook
Next room, the old man snored!

In 1984 my Dad came to my home with his tool box and got the old door out of the cellar
and placed it securely between the kitchen the the living room. He passed in 1994 and this
poem was my thanks to him for his service that day.

Diane Findlen Garrow

Morning Prayer

The morning shadows
Catch my eye
It’s still and quiet now

My family sleeps
It’s early yet
My time —
To life I bow

My time to think
My time to pray
To get the blocks
Out of my way

So I can serve
The cause of Love
The cause of Good
As up above

Diane Findlen Garrow 6/4/11

Sitting by my window on a Sunday morn

Crack open the window on a rainy May day
What are the pleasures that come my way?

First is the feel of the cool May air
It kisses my cheeks, breezes so rare

Second the sweet drift of lilacs and such
Resplendent in glory, aromas that touch

Third is the portrait of colors I see,
Green meadows, red tulips, the sight is a feast

The fourth sense of hearing is given such gifts
With songs like the robin’s, our spirits they lift

And lastly I thank God for the gift of the pen
To write these reflections of wonder

Amen

Diane Findlen Garrow 5/15/11

Above the Clouds

We’re born, we live, we die
But up here there are no lies;
The fluffy cotton balls below
As we hear the engine’s roar

Somehow remind us
That this life is but a tour

Whether first class or coach
The ONE who really knows
 Won’t tell
Because the truth may encroach

Upon the many, many things…
And things…
That we insist we hold and keep…
As time goes on we see and see…

That closest love and destiny
Exists within those clouds below
Those clouds we see but never hold;

So much like life

Diane Findlen Garrow

Spirit Guides

My parlor is full
My Spirit Guides sit,
Their raptured expressions
View my azure blue
And ocean like
Life tapestry

I am with them
Gaining and growing
From their unabashed acceptance
And Love for me

With constant tunes of
“You are perfect as you are —
Do not listen to voices of
Shame and regret.”

Diane Findlen Garrow 3/27/11

Consider Me

I am frail
I am an orchid
I am a buffalo
I have a hump
I am sacred to God

Consider me
Consider me
Please consider me

I don’t hear well
I have no teeth
I can’t see now
Yet I am here
Please consider me

When I struggle to look into your eyes
I know
Whether you are here,
Or not…

Please touch me with tenderness
Please handle with care

I am old

I used to be you
You will be me

We are here together
Years tell us the truth

Always

I am frail
I am an orchid
I am a buffalo

I am more human than I’ve ever been

Diane Findlen Garrow

I speak to you, my Irish peasant ancestor
I speak to you, my Mohawk shaman
I speak to you, those women who bore the child
Then died

All thousands of you.

You who begot me
You who bore me
You whose eyes I now possess

And pray that from your cells
And from your journey

I may then beget to life
And to humanity

Your ongoing love

Diane Findlen Garrow

Your Spirit

Your spirit hovers near
The soft silk whites and grays
     Embrace me…
     Smiling
…Not expected today

Always hoped for
…and open to
Yet when you are there
I am breathless
And tears fall

I am cleansed

You left me:
And I knew you had to go home:
Home to your God

You tried to tell me
…in so many ways

I was deaf.

Your spirit hovers near.
Now I hear.
…And see
…And feel

“It is, it just is…”
You whisper softly

Diane Findlen Garrow