The Lie of Despair

"Everyone will be better off"

No.

No we won’t.

look for unwritten notes

answer endless questions

stare at the empty pillow, vacant office

watch the dog mope room to room

clutch each other and scream

do paperwork in an endless wormhole

stand silent in a broken circle

make reservations for us minus one

meet with moneychangers

turn tables upside down

sort pictures collections trophies mementos

whose only meaning is you

receive flowers meals charity pity reasons

dear god the reasons

rage because there is no reason

accept nothing assume nothing

watch shadows fall on a cloudless day

across the eyes of your son

go deaf from the echo of your absence

You assume too much
to think you matter so little


Photo credit: depositphotos.com #23343800, standard license

Gratitude List

a change in season starts with a storm
unkind folks show us how not to be
singing doesn't need light

For these and many other gifts, I give thanks.



Picture: personal collection

Healing

And the demons in her head
stopped long enough
to watch her dance
then slipped out the door
swallowed by silent light.



Photo: Personal collection

Marketing Yourself

As welcome as the telemarketer’s call
as fun as a slap in the face
more eagerly anticipated than
a door-to-door peddler
is your offer when I didn’t ask

My mirror isn’t broken
and while this may come as a shock
I don’t secretly want to be like you
or make you more like me

I’m happy with who I am
and accept who you are

Perhaps it’s time
to love yourself enough
to give up the need
to make me over
into another version
of you



Picture: sourced online

Urban August

I want to have some quiet time
sit beside a fountain fine
by which I've never sat
and lay for peace a welcome mat

I choose one of the lovely three
which seemed to have most privacy
but found it very hard to find
past fence and rocks it hid behind

I sit on a boulder with a sigh
remove sunglasses from my eyes
immediately I'm swarmed by wasps
while at my feet, green slime and moss

lap the edges of the pond
of which I do not yet feel fond
Intact, I stretch my aching back
upon the rock but then attacked

by ants from where they came, who knows,
that's just how urban sunning goes
The traffic noise makes my ears choke
the air above it, haze and smoke

Soft wind makes mist from fountain spray
land on my neck like gentle rain
while overhead the jet too low
prepares to land with all its souls

Construction pounds behind the fence
a bus roars by and belches scent
of diesel and the asphalt heat
with added drone of sportscar speed

To stay I must set noise aside
pretend it's rhythm like the tide
let each drone and bang and buzz
remind me of the day that was

a beauty in uncommon verse
in quiet conversation spurts
of love and joy shared friend to friend
a spray of praise at odd day's end

Monday Morning

for my new friend, Renee, a flitter of fun and friendship

Sink into the empty loveseat
witness finches
flit fly flutter
bounce over the bannister
change direction
like hummingbirds
free as a ...

free as themselves
hang upside down
to eat captive suet
Rations
through the feeder cage
lest the magpie
in his tux and tails

take it all away
before chasing that squirrel
he'll never catch - the one who
runs circles around him
leaps branch to branch
scolds
in the spruce

chickadee, sparrow and finch
fly free, fed and happy
in their brown suits
spotted breast
or striped waistcoat
blushing head
or masked eyes

They don't stay long enough
for me to catch their names
or their eye
but they thank me
sing me
softly
with their song



Photo credit: Depositphotos.com #34283549, Standard License

Dodge and Drive

Yesterday behind the wheel:

I watch a man carry

the whole world in his hands

downtown on the street corner

dressed in business attire

he looks quite capable

of handling it but - not to worry -

it is just an inflatable globe.

A teen with a whole world

full of death wishes in his backpack

darts across six lanes of traffic

too busy, important or foolish

to walk the fifty metres

to the intersection

for safe passage

And another rolls across

through the intersection crosswalk

against the light on a longboard

rebels against

traffic control devices

that dare to say stop. Powerless

in face of immortal youth

This morning from the chaise:

Magpie, squirrel, finch and blackbird

flit, flight and fight around their feeder

like a flock of teen boys whose

whole world disappears

when food is involved

the daring and death defying

deeds of the day gone to seed



Photo credit: Depositphotos.com #32420353, Standard License

Cut Flower

The roses are
holding their breath
Trembling petals brush
the velvet cheek
Blushing pride
shock and wonder

I am wanted
like a favorite shirt
comforting book
glistening cold drink

I relax into you
like a cosy chair
at the cabin
warm in front of the rusty
smell of cedar on the fire

and the rose exhales
opens its arms



Photo credit: Joyce Rempel

The Winter Widow

While it is true
I have a new life
and new love
that I am happy, content and fulfilled

I am also still a widow
draped by all that has come before
I process this mantle every single day
like remembering to pick up my winter

coat from the dry cleaners
and put it on when I walk past the place
where I spilled wine on the hem
at supper that last week

I pull the fur
lined hood over my head
as his favorite song rumbles
through the playlist

The elbow snags when I bump
into his former employee at the game
and she adds the scarf of her arm
around my neck, chatters on

about how excited he would be
that we are in the cup run,
how he regretted not opting
for playoff tickets in '04.

I take the coat in again
ask if they can remove the stain
repair the snag, box it up
like the wedding dress of '81

I use the coat less now
it's getting tattered
no longer a go-to choice
and while it was

very helpful for three winters
and I will never get rid of it
the weight is more than I
need for this spring

Picture 1: depositphotos.com #5278483, standard license

Picture 2: depositphotos.com #14069717, standard license

Bully Bag-o-Bones

You stood at the head of the beach

counting down from ten

to get us to come.

Dad was busy

so you got the job

keeping us in line

His confidant, best friend,

you did as he bid

honoured, served

Obeyed.

Always the faithful son.

The first brother.

The responsible one.

Trustworthy.

Mature. Leader.

Punster.

You stood at the back of the pack,

hum the right pitch

to start us singing

picked the right hymn

to keep us singing

knew the right words

to keep the program flowing

researched the right roads

to keep us driving

contacted the churches

that kept us traveling

Put off your life

to corral ours, support Dad’s

and there you are still:

pastor of his church.

praying for his people.

Your Father’s son.

My hero.

Surrender to Love

In the weeks following the traumatic event that left me a widow in December of 2012, I picked up a book, recommended several years earlier by a trusted friend: "Surrender to Love" by Dr. David Benner. It grounded me during the initial maelstrom of grief and prepared my heart and mind for venturing into a new life, knowing this unshakeable truth: I am carried by a God whose essence is unconditional Love and there is no fear in this Love.

Earlier in 2015, I was asked to write a poem on the same theme for the Good Friday service at my church. The video which follows is the end result. I am deeply grateful to have been a part of this, and my admiration and thanks go to the creative staff and volunteers at First Alliance Church who produced such a powerful video.

May you find this Love.

Good Friday at FAC - Surrendered to Love - #FACdefiningmoments
Posted by First Alliance Church Calgary on Friday, 3 April 2015

The Mystery of Yes

I have seen too much death.
Most of it much too soon.

Friends,
two nephews, two nieces,
parents, sister-in-law,
brother, husband.

But this is why I celebrate Easter.
The mystery of resurrection.
The wonder that God became man
to pay the price for me
to defeat the death that comes by sin

Came alive again, Hallelujah!
to restore the original design
of open and complete connection
with the One Who Is Life.

Love came to me in such a tangible way
after Brent's death
A presence of light so real,
a comfort so inexpressibly deep,
all my doubt about God's love
GONE!

Jesus was mocked.
Some of you still do.
I invite you to hear my story,
hear His heart.

Only Jesus has the words of eternal life.
and he has his arms open to you.
right now.
say yes.
just yes.

Comparison is the Eighth Deadly Sin

I used to be friends with a dental hygienist

who judged people by their teeth

and so my mind begins to wonder

about the condition of my bicuspids and molars

so much that we eventually drift apart.

If this is true for teeth, says Perfectionist,

then surely other experts cultivate

similar measures for acceptance?

And so, the professions of various acquaintances

begin a long march across the field of comparison.

The merchandising manager at the dress shop

had to know about my threadbare closet

(how the floral blouse always shows up on Wednesdays)

and thus my limited wardrobe would invariably

have to circumvent that friendship

A psychologist raises my lingering suspicion

that he has X-ray vision into my psyche;

the nurse knows instinctively about that small goiter

the fireman discerns the smoke detector battery must be dead

and a pastor knows the hidden depths of my soul

Expert knowledge becomes a smile killer,

beauty competition, mental or physical health exam

home safety evaluation and a spiritual assessment

if everyone can see me the way I see myself

All those not-so-hidden little faults on parade

And it crushes me then that my life as a poet

could possibly discourage others as they read my words

quash so many, if they think I look at their writing

with some measure of carefully crafted eloquence

and find them wanting.

Comparison kills.

On the other hand, connection grows

if we set aside the rulers

human measures of success

better-than, less-than subjectivity

then, we are grateful to learn from friends 

the life-giving principles of collaboration,

share knowledge like a library loans books

our own personal Wikipedia

downloaded from one to another

Expertise to build a life:

that caring for teeth improves overall health

certain clothing can minimize body flaws

that no, it’s not just me

who feels inadequate at times

If we only compare notes about life. love. longing.
put down one-upmanship, then
home can be safe, goiters can be treated
and redemption is possible, 

even for a judgmental hygienist
or a renegade poet.



Picture: depositphotos.com #5431243, standard license

Undone

If you want to write, they said
You must read much
often
and long, they said
Read the ones whose words
move your soul
like a jet
or hot air balloon
to heaven and back
without crashing
But crashing is good too
I say,
so I read Collins and Kooser
Plath and Oliver
Rumi, Rilke, Hafiz
King David
and my friend
Susan.
I read while having my roots
done and I am undone
leak tears
as my colour flames.





Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

The Rempel Psalm

For my husband, Henry, a man after God's own heart

The Lord is your foreman, you don't lack anything.

He orders you to take a load off in lush green meadows, he gives you the best camping spot beside the clean watering holes, he restores your soul like a classic Mustang, he leads you in right-living paths because your life reflects well on his name and reputation.

Even though that path goes straight through dangerous, shadowy Death Valley, you don't fear the black hats because He is riding shotgun. His Winchester and lasso comfort you.

He prepares a campfire feast for you in the face of your enemies, he massages your body/mind/spirit with healing oil, your wine casks of blessing are always full and you pour it out freely to others.

Goodness and Mercy are your personal, lifelong friends and sidekicks. Your final bunk is in the Lord's ranch house - you'll hang up your spurs and roam his territory forever. It's a done deal.

Selah.



Photo credit: Depositphotos.com 1397515, Standard License

Sit Still

 

I try.

I wait. 

I think. 

A lot. 

I pray. 

I forget. 

Often. 

I rest. 

I listen. 

I read. 

I laugh. 

I try yoga. 

I injure myself. 

In yoga. 

Seriously?

I walk. 

And walk. 

I talk. 

I tell the truth. 

I take photos. 

Beauty shows up. 

I smile. 

I share. 

I love. 

I still. 

I live.

~Joyce E. Rempel

Photo by Jayden Yoon ZK on Unsplash