Stands to the Mystery

August 2, 2014

You Know My Heart (Poetry, Freewrite)

I am so small in creation-
But precious in Your eyes

You know my heart,
My name is written
On Your hand

From early memories–
Infant eyes gazing into
A blurry world
I saw Your eyes gazing
Into mine
It was You
Only You

Growing up should not have meant
Growing apart, kissing shadows
That would only break my heart

When I stray,
You whisper words of love
To guide me safely home
You promise to carry me
Til I am old and gray

You know my heart,
My name is written
On Your hand
From first memory,
It was You
Only You..

Lynn Mari, © 2014

Isaiah 46:4,”Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

November 5, 2013

The Mother Tree (Freewrite, Essay)

Memories fall like leaves, skidding across the sidewalk at my feet. Coloring the landscape with painful reminders of my children—the dreams I had for my family, the yearning of what could have been… The falling away from the mother tree. A healthy leaf slowly dies, becoming brittle, it’s edges crumple, colors fade… though torn from the tree it is never forgotten. Those memories will always be a part of me, of who I am. The leaf is broken but with the last of its strengthen, it returns to the ground, to nurture the roots, to give birth to new life in another season. That is how mothers endure the most difficult and impossible situations, they are rooted to the memories of their precious children, in the depths of the cold, dank soil–they reach for light.

— Lynn Mari, 2013

The Mother Tree

Read more letters, quotes, songs and messages from Mother to Child, or Post your own at:
Protective Mothers Alliance (PMA), “Love Letters to Our Children”. PMA International’s Mothers/Advocates are working heart-to-heart and hand-to-hand with PMA INTL’s Network Hear Us Now!! ( H.U.N) to educate and communicate the deep love a mother has for her child. Our intention is to help the moms express their deep devoted love for their children, and help strengthen the mother/child bond, moving their relationship forward in a loving and positive way!

October 5, 2013

It Takes These Things to Heal (Poetry, Tall Tales, Memoir)


My daughter and I lay side by side

In a narrow hospital bed,

Her brown eyes gaze into mine

As she solemnly presents:

A carefully colored get-well card,

A old picture of my Dad,

The latest news about Taylor Swift.


A an old picture of my Dad

Posed next to the Christmas tree…

Looking supafly in plaid bell bottoms,

Did Dad know I was the surprise in his stocking?

That next year he would be a father for the first time—

To a rebellious daughter

Who sang out of tune on purpose,

And sang in tune when no one was watching—

Who tested patience, and flunked


That daughter that grew into a young woman…

Who stood under a wishing star,

The flickering light reached a dark spot

I closed my eyes, and threw my heart into the heavens,

Just off a meandering trail

Someone else was wishing too..

And caught my rebellious heart,

Together we would begin a life,

Have a beautiful baby…


My baby girl came into the world laughing,

She was born unafraid—

Her antics kept me racing

The floorboards shook with large feet chasing after smaller

The tired sigh of exhaustion,

The sail of black hair would collapse against her narrow shoulders,

And almond shaped eyes would finally shudder

Giving way to sleep, thumb hanging from rosebud mouth


My daughter and I sing together,

When angry we crescendo,

our voices hammer to the beat

Then reunite over tearful ballads

Wondering what Taylor Swift song we are living out today.


But right now, there is only the hush of breath–

I am recovering from surgery

An IV snakes through my arm,

A small hand winds through plastic tubing

Holding me close, lest I break.  


It takes these things to heal—

A carefully colored get-well card,

An old picture of my Dad

The latest news about Taylor Swift…

The love of my daughter.




Lynn Mari, © 2013.





June 10, 2013

Listen Life Goes On (Haibun, Poetry)

Filed under: Poems of Scattered Seeds — by graceofwynn @ 3:04 am
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Icy waters lap against the shore, reaching for warmth. Brilliant orbs peek through crumbling ruins of winter—pink, yellow, purple dancing in the sky. My toes are tickled by the gentle waves, rolling across the beach. The promise of spring also signals an end. The once beautiful snow melts, turning into crystal rivers that nourish new life. I fear the change. The sand turns into thick mud. Remember we once dug our plastic buckets in the caramel colored grains, rebuilding Atlantis as we formed sturdy castles and dug trenches? Beneath thick layers of snow, the playground has rusted. Remember spinning on the merry-go-round, seeing who could hold on the longest while the world was suddenly tossed upside down? How funny it was to stumble across the grass, dizzy with the ride and laughter, falling into each other.

Blackbirds guard their nests
Dew glistens on the cattails
Listen life goes on…

Lynn Mari, © 2013.

Listen Life Goes On…

April 20, 2013

Don’t Crumple That Page (Haiku Poetry)

Filed under: Poems of Scattered Seeds — by graceofwynn @ 7:26 am
Tags: , , , ,

Don’t crumple that page

The ink dries, doesn’t mean we’re through

I’m still missin’ you

Lynn Mari, ©  2013


Hey Billy Bub.. this reminds me of that song we wrote..why don’t you pick up your guitar and help me write some lyrics to this? Stay smiling!


March 17, 2013

Dance with Shadows: Haiku

Filed under: Poems of the Survivor — by graceofwynn @ 5:53 pm
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A realization–
You shouldn’t have to teach love
Or dance with shadows.

— Lynn Mari, © 2013

Dance with Shadows Haiku

March 6, 2013

Standing at the Door (It is not so) : Poetry, Freewrite

I try to believe that You never happened–
that with time, and distance,
You will simply vanish.

It is not so.

The memories are still clear–
as if You are standing at the door,
asking to come in.

It is not so.

Lynn Mari, © 2013

L. Mari 2013

February 18, 2013

The Keeper of Thirteen Secrets: Poetry

The Keeper of Thirteen Secrets

An unspoken avalanche
Pulls the snow down from the mountains
From cedar wings, blackbird races toward exposed secrets.
The metallic stars of blackbird eyes,
Search the Earth for a listening heart
Those who keep secrets understand loneliness.
An old photograph, a tarnished ring
A blackbird circles over ancestral secrets.

Lurid secrets
The rhythm of a pacing heart;
What I know,
The blackbird is involved
Its red shoulder, caught my eye
Then disappeared into the night.
Hidden among the tall grass,
A pair of blackbirds build a nest
Secrets gather
The mud, the moss
The avoidance, the hush.

Solemn secrets,
Suggestive smiles,
Origami wings of a folded note
Collapse, then expand-
Blackbird wings beat against the sky.
A figure swoops along jagged skyline
Of one of many secrets
In blackbird territory.
Blind and restless as blackbird chicks
Is the dependency of the secret
–and it’s keeper.
Lingering rays of silver light
Lead winter flocks astray
Secrets crystallize into errant snowflakes
Falling to earth in a hush. 
Ghosts tugging at crumbling curtains
Of lace against rumor
A restless pacing,  
An urgency to tell
The frenzied gaze of blackbird
Confronted by it’s own secrets.

Imploring eyes search the mirror,
Tumors bubble beneath the secrets
Blackbird pulls worms from beneath hedgerows
Strands of life dim, and fray.

Wings spread, glossy feather flatten
Headed tilted towards reaching rays 
Secrets tumble from slender bill 
On sunlit grass.
The funeral procession
Once, bound by secrets
Now unburdened by death
They do not know where to stand-
And scatter like blackbirds frightened by prey.
A seasonal thaw,
Resilient buds emerge from icy cocoons
Secrets linger  
Between the heart and the mouth
Blackbirds return to cattail marshes.
The blackbird is watching.
Lynn Mari, © 2013

A tribute poem to Wallace Stevens, inspired by “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.” It took me several months to complete this poem, I was told to just stop writing because it was so difficult..grin..but I had an amazing inspiration in Wallace, and a relaxing walk through the swamp..and those moments saw me through the sleepless nights, and jumbled words. This poem has taught me so much about the depths of creativity, and the mysterious blackbirds that circle the sky :) 
“Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”, Wallace Stevens:
All About Birds, “Red Winged Blackbird”:
“Common Blackbird: Turdus merula”:
“Our Nesting Blackbirds”:
21 Facts about Blackbirds:

November 30, 2012

That Something Worth Living For (Poetry, Freewrite)

My second chances
Is all burned up like matches
So much for happy ever after
How about never?

They say faith starts with
Just a seed
But all I got is a thorn
Can I really be saved,
Or will I be left lyin’ on the floor
Lyin’ to myself
Wishin I was someone else…

My second chances is all burned up
My dreams have turned to ashes
Tears sting — heart pounds
Blood rushing through my veins

Can’t see what is in front of me
But ready to jump–
Ready to scale a wall
Ready to fight
To give my all
To get a glimpse of that white light
That hope-
That something worth living for.

Lynn Mari, © 2012.

“Ray of Hope”. Lynn Mari 2009.

This is a new style of poetry I am trying out — grin — it’s an unfinished poem!

October 4, 2012

Women Treacherously Dealt With (Poetry)

Jeremiah 12:6, “For even your brethren, and the house of your father, even they have dealt treacherously with you; yea, they have called a multitude after you:
believe them not, though they speak fair words unto you.”

I. The Obedient Wife
You stood beside the pews,
Smiling as people passed,
Did they see the smirk?
The nasty gleam in your eye?
I did.
I felt your intent as you squeezed a little too hard
On a frail elbow, causing bruises to ripple across papery skin.
One hand casually jungles the pills in your pocket—
Feeling the smooth oval gave you a little high
The man who came in the dark
With cellophane packages
Had you feeling like a saint
Even as your terrorized your wife and children
You handed out judgment an hour before church–
The car swerves off the road, towards an embankment
You scream we are no good to you, no more
Then carefully straighten the wheels
My face is blank—any emotion will provoke further rage
Sssh children, sit up straight, don’t cry
Long ago, I learned to hold back tears
To walk down the aisle with a “good Christian man”.

II. The Loyal Friend
When I stood beside a dark freeway
Smoke pouring from my hood
I was so grateful you answered my call—
The one I could trust,
The one who sang the loudest in church
And winked at the old ladies ‘til they giggled
High fivin’ the guys, confident smile
You made it so easy to talk
Soon we were lost in each other’s thoughts,
And found our way in each other’s eyes
I thought my prayers were answered
To have a friend like you…
Then one day you answered my call with a demand
I lost a piece of my self as each layer was shed—
My innocence, my hopes and then my clothes,
When you walked into church that morning you were still the same liar
I, however, had changed—
I never wanted to be pretty again,
I never wanted to be the girl that a “good Christian man” would date
So I sliced off my hair with a kitchen shears
And jabbed a razor into the soft flesh inside my arm,
It was much gentler than the razor you used on me,
Cutting so deeply that I wince every time I hear my name
Fearing again that a familiar voice will violate my trust.

III. The Fallen Woman
I am beauty hidden in a black wool sweater
Shoulders slump from the large bag at my side,
Another burden to carry
Containing the remnants of my former life—
Torn photographs, Lost coins, Hotline numbers
Crumpled papers, Broken pretzels, Haphazard dreams
I cringe from any bit of attention given to me
Cry until my nose is red, and runny, at the thought
The possibility—that God really does love a sinner like me
From across the aisle, I feel your gaze linger on my face
You follow every jagged scar, and smile
Causing my breath to shudder,
Maybe it’s true—I am loveable, somehow
I feel so small when you pull me into a hug,
You were there to fix all my worries, my clogged drain
And found a way to make me laugh again
Like the explosion of a supernova,
Our love shone brighter than all the light in the universe
Only to plunge into a vast darkness
The kitchen bubbles with the aroma of old world cooking
A table set for two…instead one sits with a shadow
My fingers caress the mold stretching across the dinner plate,
The warmth of your tears against my heart,
When you told me of your past,
How you want to be a better man…
But, somehow, getting closer drove you away
You had all the power, and the control
I was holding onto a fragile promise
Of redemption for a fallen women.

Believe them not, though they speak fair words unto you…

Lynn Mari, © 2012

This poem is based on a collection of personal stories from friends.. this poem is not to bash men but to raise awareness about abuse & abusive attitudes towards women in the church.

I hope to get the conversation started about how worldly attitudes are creeping into church, and affecting the way Christians relate to each other..too many women have been silent while being hurt by the men who are supposed to protect them. No more.

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