Poems

Two mites—all she had—to tithe for her God. See Mark 12:41-44.

A poetic offering

Who is on the edge of time precariously waiting for Push forward, pull back? Not me. Why? I am companioned.

My will, Be still. Let go the thrill Of I and my and me.

All gates, fire-burned, old wall but scattered stone, Gave entry to those men who would despoil. But Nehemiah prayed, then planned alone To mend the breach.

The wind howls through the trees as the gale snaps the branches and flings them to the ground. Under the threatening clouds, yet high, high above the earthbound rage and tumult a lone gray gull hovers, motionless, supported by an unseen power.

I saw myself saying to one in need, "Don't let your heart become discouraged. " A pleasant panacea.

The barest tree can always be remembered green. The darkest night of deepest fear gives way to light.

Asleep I rouse and reach to find the light (in dark confines of mortal belief) (stirred by my need of God) (beyond the senses' self) (never doubting) (of His presence) dispelling dream-shadows of sentence and trial, revealing the innocence of His child, defining creation's identity as God-made, deathless, strong and free. No more darkness, no more night, abide when a dream has taken flight! —only eternal dawn breaking, met by a joyful heart waking! MARY MARTIN ODELL.

My comings and goings have ended, and I can now abide. It has been a hard journey under harsh suns and through many winters.