May 25, 2025 (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, May 25, 2025, feast day of Our Lady of Puy, Our Lady of Consolation (Carey, Ohio), Our Lady the New (Jerusalem), Icon of the Mother of God of the Passion, Saint Madeline Sophie Barat, Saint Bede the Venerable. Jewish calendar today commemorates Idolatrous Practices Abolished (c. 135 BC). Image from here.)

May 25, 2025

Remember Our Lady of Puy today -- appeared atop a dolman, bridge.

Remember Mom’s birth, her love of Angels, flight.

Remember her today on her birthday, first one in Heaven. 

She’d nudge us to sing, sweep of times not withstanding.

To smile — when you look for reasons you’ll find them -- Just 

                                                                              remember 

                                                                             

*From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by "Remember" by Joy Harjo. From Lisa Freedman's BreatheReadWrite, May 25, 2025.

Motherless (WC)

Motherless

Grief, some say it’s an ending. 

But that’s impossible.

Though I lost my Mom this January.

January too, the month I emerged, a 60’s babe.

Takes some rearranging, this living now.

The kitchen for instance, stacked with boxes.

Pantry supplies await the shelves Joseph builds.

He dubs this deep end, blames my doom scrolling. 

He may think differently, if supply chain snaps. 

Meanwhile, snap fingers, tap acupressure points.  

To soothe freeze response, sense flow. 

Therapist tells me moving might be enough. 

Set hand to heart, to feel what feel. 

Motherless.

A physical impossibility, if one is to be born. 

What is it swims, simmers, 

                                                    waits for birth?

*From prompt: Craft a Duplex poem, from Jen Keretnick (of the Poetry Salon)’s Walking into the Duplex, May 18, 2025.

Kaddish Candle (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, May 13, 2025 – feast day of Blessed Julian of Norwich (note her universal appeal), Our Lady of Fatima, Our [nursing] Lady Dawn of Peace, Our Lady of the Most Blessed Sacrament… and in true synchronicity, Jewish calendar commemorates Matzah Depleted during the Exodus (1313 BC) --- which would be replaced with daily Manna.)

Kaddish Candle

(for Pope Francis)

As heart beats, even in sleep. 

Sun wakes without an alarm. 

Sinews stretch, shake. 

Rain splashes regardless. 

Milk thistle, dandelion keep growing —

a nesting bluebird’s breakfast.

Mourning birdsong.

*From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by “To a Young Poet” by Zaina Alsous; from Lisa Freedman’s BreatheReadWrite, April 27, 2025. Edited at Tresha Haeffner (The Poetry Salon)’s editing class, May 13, 2025. 

===Add Teresa's goodness has left the room on Tresha doc

I’d almost forgotten, this year a Jubilee (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, May 8, 2025)

I’d almost forgotten, this year a Jubilee*,

(thoughts, as unbeknownst, Pope Leo XIV ‘s electing)

Pilgrims of hope, 

Pope Francis Emeritus’ theme. Loosed,

the debts, notes, former claims upon our days.

We can always start again, morning’s tea bag says… 

 

Do I really need to process, pigeon-hole it all?

Does not the Spirit speak, and still? 

O day, to us you give 

such ample time to live.  

*Above piece is a response to/turning of The Lien by Adelaide Love, which explores how life can become relinquished to the trivial (found in All the Silver Pennies by Blanche Jennings Thompson).

**From prompt: Contradict a chosen poem (chose The Lien by Adelaide Love), optionally incorporating phrases from the original. From Tresha Heafner’s Write Games class (The Poetry Salon), May 8, 2025. 

She Who Knows the Way (WC)

 

Wendy Cabell. Though piece began February 15, 2025, it evolved over time, and is being shared today April 27, Divine Mercy Sunday and feast day of Our Lady of Light (When the work is done, said the Virgin, all shall know by its more than human beauty that a greater mind and a higher art have arranged the composition and laid the colors), Our Lady of Montserrat, Saint Zita of Lucca and Blessed Maria Antonia Bandrés y Elósegui. Image is a Medieval Marian Mosaic from Saint Mary Major, from here.)

She Who Knows the Way

(for Pope Francis)

A rendezvous spot, Saint Mary Major.

She leaves directions, Be:

Simple

Humble

Essential.

Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, 

in the crossing of my arms? 

Do you need something more?

*Inspired by Pope Francis’ burial wishes (here), his burial place (here), and Our Lady’s words to Saint Juan Diego and by extension to us (from here): Listen, put it into your heart, my youngest and dearest son, that the thing that frightens you, the thing that afflicts you, is nothing: do not let it disturb you…Am I not here, I who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need something more? Let nothing else worry you or disturb you.

“When a Mother dies, the children sleep on a leaf” (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, Bright Week 2025. Image is connected with Bright Friday's theme of the Life-Giving Fountain of the Most Holy Theotokos, from here.)

“When a Mother dies, the children sleep on a leaf”

(complied/adapted from Slow Noodles by Chantha Nguon*)

When you lose your Mother, you lose the roof over your head.

You lose the rice in your bowl.

What single seed from your old life 

will help you sow a new one? 

You will know, as you roll out your moments 

like you roll out your slow noodles —

      

                        one by one, 

                                     deliberately, 

                                                      and with love.

Follow your puppy sense. It knows that time equals love, 

and love equals deliciousness.

Put your trust in God, and in each other, not in gold. 

Play the role of a defeated subject when necessary.

Remain undefeated in the important ways wherever possible.

These ingredients for Mom’s Silken Rebellion, you will need them --

But you are ready.

You have her recipes.

*Compiled/adapted from Chantha Nguon, Slow Noodles: A Cambodian Memoir of Love, Loss, and Family Recipes. This piece is a found poem crafted with words and phrases found in this book and used in a new way. 

Home Economics (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, March 28, 2025, Our Lady of Castelbruedo, Virgin of Panecillo/Quinto, Our Lady of Mercy (Burgundy), Saint Gundelindis/Gwendolyn of Niedermünster (Niece of Saint Odilia of Alsace). Image from here.)

Home Economics

How do you feel poor, when cornbread wafts from the kitchen, or baked apples appear on your plate, or Grandma sews up matching red riding hood capes for you and your doll come Halloween eve. And mornings, they’d usually start with Mom’s Rise and shine, her kissed I love you.

Why are your friends always the wealthy ones in your class? It was Mom’s grade school lament. I didn't know what to say. Just friended those who liked what I did — book bingeing, slipping notes during math class, silly skipping down the sidewalk on the way to school. I didn’t feel the divide.

Till the day we studied the Great Depression. 

Best friend Grace’s light laugh, Well, my family wasn't suffering. She’d casually listed all the companies they owned. 

I’d remembered then, the stories told round our supper table. Great Grandma Otten forced to sell her restaurant, the one she’d pinched and prayed for, the one Great Grandpa Herman slaved in the ice mines for — led to his double pneumonia, her young widowhood. Mere manager now, she’d quietly tuck away customers’ leftovers, to give her six kids their one meal a day.

Grace, she’d go on to be a pediatrician. Me, I’d teach preschool, get hit by a truck as I crossed the street one Fall, early disabled. 

And life now, it’s midst medicines, treatments and assistance can’t afford, it’s living in this 60’s travel trailer. Though these walls of hers have made it, through hurricane winds, tree limbs through the roof, near misses with wildfire and flood. Spirit Bear Abbey, we call our home. She’s made it this far, thanks be to God. 

And so have I. 

eve’s candle, stars, we sip

sage tea, Joseph’s benediction —

I love you too

*From combined prompts: freewrite as inspired by excerpts from “I Am Never Not Thinking About Money” by Kasim Ali, “Economics at Gemco” by John Olivares Espinoza, and “Money” by Philip Larkin. From Lisa Freedman’s BreatheReadWrite, March 28, 2025. 

My cousin tells me our family loves Mary cause She gets our quirky femininity (WC)

 

(Wendy Cabell, March 16, 2025, feast day of (above) Our Lady of the Life Giving Spring and Saint Jean/John de Brébeuf, Jewish calendar today commemorates Rebuilding of Jerusalem Wall Begun (c. 41) and 3rd day of the "Triple Purim". Image from here.)

My cousin tells me our family loves Mary 

cause She gets our quirky femininity

Well, Blessed Mother, You’ve seen what we do.

We economize, embalm our departed on the kitchen table,

heartened by candlelight’s glow.

We adopt our grandkids, stack Pampers by the Geritol

to give young Moms a break.

We angel up remote ranches and travel trailers,

serve porcupine meatballs, twice baked potatoes.

When forced to sell our restaurants, we negotiate, 

stay on as manager.

You, Mary, Who gave birth in a stable, blessed atop dolman stones*, 

calm requested that water turn wine —  We know You understand. 

We stop time midst any bustle, yes today --

Hand to apron, find Rosary beads…

* Our Blessed Mother’s “quirk” of blessing atop dolman stones is a reference to Our Lady of Le Puy, Our Lady’s first apparition after her passing, which involved a prehistoric dolmen, see here. 

**Above piece was inspired by layers of family history, as shared by family members over time. Most recently inspired by cousin Maureen, who in response to my question, So why is it, you think, all the women in our family are so devoted to Mary?, replied: She’s the one woman who understands our quirky femininity.

***From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by “If They Should Come for Us” by Fatimah Asghar, from Lisa Freedman’s BreatheReadWrite Studio time, March 16, 2025.

Remnants (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, composed sometime near before Pope Francis' passing, date chosen is just a guess)

Remnants 

I find the tile shards on the sand. Artifacts really, a prehistoric air. Swirls and spirals. Silent. They wait just near the card table at which I’d spoken with Pope Francis. In this dream, he makes an impromptu visit to Venice Beach. I remember breakfasts of younger days, I’d scan for dolphins at dawn. Now, I confess the fusses I’m having with Joseph. Our mounds of clutter. Debts and dust. The Pope, he waves this off.

Shards like stars -– Sweep of

Spirit. Each pass of paintbrush,

pen, dry bones they rise

Home Fires (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, February 11, feast day of (above) Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Corteza, World Day of the Sick, Saint Gobnata/Gobnet, Saint Caedmon, Holy Empress Theodora, Saint Blaise. On Jewish calendar today is Auschwitz Liberated (1945), passing of Rebbetzin Shterna Sarah Schneersohn (1942). Image from here.)

Home Fires

(grief’s current juncture)

Have I misunderstood mothering, wounds being cradled?

Not just sisterhood, it's more I seek --

home, welcoming light. Now a travel trailer.

I fuel with artmaking, bolster with clutter. 

And wonder, sometimes, why the fire fantasy, 

the quick now, just grab the essence! …a sideways glow? 

Some inward eavesdropping: 

Over here, Flo. Yeah, I like this table too. Careful, the tea's pretty hot. 

Oh, well that makes sense, that's why your name is Flo. It's what you need.

Well, I've had it with this house mess too. I'm serious Flo, you’ve an ally here! 

Noooo, I can't just toss ~everything ~. And I need to go through it first.

Thanks for the offer Flo. Really. 

But we don't have fire insurance, remember? We'd be in a bad way. 

But water, how’s that for a start, a bit of cleaning? 

I'll hand you the matches, promise. Light all the candles you want. 

But dear, could you stand here beside me as we sort this stuff, 

help me go with the flow?

*From combined prompts: Freewrite as inspired by “Money” by Dana Gioia, excerpt from “less hope” by Danez Smith, and “To Be Self-Evident” by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha (from Lisa Freedman’s BreatheReadWrite, February 11, 2025); and by considering what would like to inaugurate in own life this new year, and by imagining sitting down at table with one's anger, to chat with as with a friend (from Hugo House Quarantine Write-in with Naa Akua, January 21, 2021).

Memory Eternal (WC)

A SoulCollage card made last night in loving memory of my Mother Jackie. Made before knowing the English translation for the French verse on it. Looking it up now, it’s:

As God gave food to the birds, 

He sent His Son to you

O Lord, give rest to the soul of Thy servant Jackie.

May she rest in peace,

and may perpetual light shine upon her.

Amen.

*"Memory Eternal" is a traditional Eastern Orthodox phrase for honoring for the departed

Upon running away from home, age 4 (WC)

(Wendy Cabell, January 25, 2025, feast day of Our Lady of Bethlehem(Spain), Our Lady's Shroud, 3 Icons of of the Mother of God at Hilander Monastery ((above) Milkgiver, Akathist, and Priestly)), the Unexpected Joy Icon of the Mother of God, the Assuage My Sorrows Icon of the Mother of God, the Conversion of Saint Paul the Apostle, Saint Gregory the Theologian, Blessed Archangela Girlani. Image from here.)

Upon running away from home, age 4

Yes, it happened. 

Our front door sang that morning, I made it a mile or so. 

The Swiss Miss girl, I knew she’d take me in.

Being Queen of the fairies and all,

she'd up and hug me, spot family when she sees it.

We'd brite the trees together, share sage tea,

waken deep nestled in rosebuds.  

A refuge, you see, with the wee folk, 

if nowhere else.

And if I ever grew up, I’d remember — 

no matter what happens out there, 

somewhere, 

                   glow-glimmer slips though

 

*From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by  “As Girl” by Annie Wenstrup. From Lisa Freedman's BreatheReadWrite, January 25, 2025.  

Today’s Menu (WC)

  

(Wendy Cabell, published (also finalist in contest) in My Sanskriti in Teal, edited by Ruchi Acharya, Wingless Dreamer Publisher, 2023. Originally from May 14, 2022, feast day of Our Lady of Bavaria, the Unexpected Joy Icon of the Mother of God, the Sweet-Kissing Icon of the Mother of God, the Yaroslavl-Caves Icon of the Mother of God, and feast day of Saint Matthias the Apostle, Saint Corona the Martyr, and Saint Maria Mazzerello. Image from our family photo album (previous image was from here, tree shrine to Our Lady of Bavaria.)

Originally from 2022, revisited now in loving memory of my Mother, who in her own way carried Grandma Otten's torch, who carried her Grandmother's, and on back....

Today’s Menu

World economy hires her waitress, ignores my order,

brings what pleases. No wonder this restaurant’s avoided.

Turn to Great Grandma Otten’s instead, opened in the Roaring 20's.

Lost in the Great Depression. Though she kept the Rosary,

safe in her apron pocket, passed it on. This economy of time

paced smooth, circles round. Skirts the sound of crash 

or rise, holds my hand. Each visit,

a surprise -- 

*From prompt: Freewrite as inspired by Moinica de la Torre’s “$6.82”; from Lisa Freedman’s Imagination and Justice BreatheReadWrite (IWWG International Women’s Writing Guild), May 14, 2022.