Poems

Say Their Names

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

Say their names.

It was Saturday night in Orlando.
The night was filled with dancing,
Music whirling bodies merrily about the floor,
Laughing with loved ones
In common sanctuary,
When Death arrived, spinning bullets
Striking spinning dancers to the stone.
Rainbow festival yielded to one color, crimson.
Their names, accented with the Spanish
Of Caribbean islands or of South
American towns, spill haltingly
From my awkward tongue,
Because my voice is choked
With tears.

Stanley Almodovar III, 23
Amanda Alvear, 25
Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26
Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33
Antonio Davon Brown, 29
Darryl Roman Burt II, 29
Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28
Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25
Luis Daniel Conde, 39
Cory James Connell, 21
Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25
Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32
Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31
Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25
Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26
Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22
Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22
Paul Terrell Henry, 41
Frank Hernandez, 27
Miguel Angel Honorato, 30
Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40
Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19
Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30
Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25
Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32
Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21
Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49
Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25
Kimberly Morris, 37
Akyra Monet Murray, 18
Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20
Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25
Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36
Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32
Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35
Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25
Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27
Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35
Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24
Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24
Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34
Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33
Martin Benitez Torres, 33
Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24
Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37
Luis S. Vielma, 22
Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50
Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37
Jerald Arthur Wright, 31

As their friends and families mourn their murders,
Say their names.

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This Man Demands

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

Bernardo_Strozzi_-_Prophet_Elijah_and_the_Widow_of_Sarepta_-_WGA21919One meal remains, just one
To comfort us, my son and I.
I search the barren ground,
Aching for rain,
To find the fuel to bake
That last pathetic cake
For our memorial feast.

And, of course, he comes to me
Asserting hospitality’s demands.
Some water (in a drought, no less!):
All right, the well provides
(How long, I ask, how long?).
But then, another call
For bread, that he may eat.

I have no bread, demanding man.
I am a corpse too stupid to stop walking.
I have the makings of one meal
To bring brief comfort
To my son and I
Before the pangs of hunger
Take our lives.

What matter if I feed this man?
Our fate is written; we are bound for death.
So, I suspect, is he,
Fool foreigner demanding bread.
One meal alone I’ll share.
Perhaps he’ll linger long enough
To watch me die.

Hospitality demands.
Our straight poverty demands.
Time of drought demands.
Arrogance demands.
Death’s imminence demands.
This man demands.
This man’s God…
Gives.

Based on 1 Kings 17:8-16

 

A Sliver of Shale

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment
A sliver of shale and Johann Sebastian Bach

A sliver of shale and Johann Sebastian Bach

A sliver of shale
(at least, I think it’s shale),
A ceramic flower,
A vial of sand,
A thank-you plaque,
A pen which bears the likeness
Of Johann Sebastian Bach,
And coffee mugs which range
From “Failte (welcome)”
On to “Pastor”
With scarce a pause
At “Music Dude”;

Photos on the wall,
One hanging in a keychain:

These are
The tributaries
Of memory, O God.

May I ever feel the love
With which they passed
From others’ hands
To mine.

May I ever know the love
They represent
Is echoed, doubled,
Amplified a thousandfold
In You.

Amen.

October Morning

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

October morning

The rays of light, streaming from the azure dome
Of heaven set aglow the diamond frost
Upon the green or topaz stems of grass,
The pearls of mist that rise above
The sleeping surface of the river,
The scarlets and the saffrons that adorn
The soaring limbs upon the trees:
Invitation to adore the Author of such wonder.

And later, worship’s hymns a-fading,
Lowering clouds release a few brief crystals,
Barely visible descending from the sky,
Argent briefly resting on a surface, then
A luminescent globe for just a moment,
Before the liquid water vanishes
Into the insubstantial air.
The glory of New England in October!

Friday

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment
Christ on the Cross

It’s getting hard to breathe.

So many blows from whips and hands.
Half led, half dragged from place to place
Throughout the night. I haven’t slept.
When they ceased to lash with whips
They lashed with words.
Question after question
As if my answers mattered.
I hope my friends escaped.
I wish the ones I barely see
Through swollen, blurry eyes
Would go. Their weeping just might break
My heart. I hear their tears
Above the jeers.

It’s getting hard to breathe.

I have to wonder why
They jeer. Why bother?
They can have their triumph
Without mocking me.
They have my life.
What more can they desire?

It’s getting hard to breathe.

They tried to give me wormwood,
But I wouldn’t take it.
Best to bear the worst
That human beings can do –
Oh, I pray this is the worst!
Every muscle screams
From hanging by my hands
Afire with pain
Around the nails.
I’d scream, but…

It’s getting hard to breathe.

Father, forgive them
For they do not know…
Breathe.
What they are doing.

Do I know
What I’m doing?

Breathe.
Breathe.

Eli! Eli!
Lama!
Breathe.
Sabachtani!

It’s getting
Hard to breathe.

Breathe.

Is it dark?
I can’t tell.

A sponge.
Breathe.
Sour wine.
Breathe.

It’s hard
Too hard
To breathe.

Breathe.

Tear’s salt.
Last
Flavor.

Breathe.

Into
Your hands…
Breathe.
I commend…
Breathe.
My spirit.
Breathe.

It’s hard
To
Breathe.

Breathe.

It
Is
Finished.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Brea…

Image by Unknown or not provided – U.S. National Archives and Records Administration, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17069459

This page was updated on April 18, 2019, to add the image and place the words of Jesus from the cross in italics.