Advent Poetry by Laura Fissel

"The Longing"

weary we are
weary
of fighting and not knowing
why
of feeling unsafe
and the uselessness of protecting self
of filling a want that cannot be
filled
of forfeiting hope
of forfeiting hope
of fretting though it adds no one
minute
of folly that is attached to our
bones
of forcing and being forced
of forcing and being forced
we want to feel our worth
our purpose our reason
why
our soul longs to feel its worth
and be satisfied

"Humility"

purposefully chosen
a town of little
repute
a lowly manger
bedding of hay licked by
oxen
settled in a donkey's stomach
who nibbled as he looked on
shepherd, a courtroom
never to see, such was their
repute
unlikely heralds of a king
who wailed into the world
arrived in birth
and blood
and slick with the love of a mother
the son of a carpenter
destined to live with rough
hands
to work wood into beauty
destined to live with rough
people
to work souls into beauty
to leave a predictable planet
as he entered
blood and violence
to turn Earth on its axis
with the reeling reality
of Love

"The Greatest Paradox"

you are small
every part of you is the tiniest
miniature of the future model
each vein, each flowing artery
pulsing with the substance we here call
blood
is fragile
and could be snapped
rent apart
so easily
your soft self
rising and falling just barely
with the whisper of breath
seems barely real, barely living
the pink skin is stretched
over a perfect frame
bones that protectively cage a
little pumping heart
and heaving lungs, proudly puffing out
and sighing back again
and again
your muscles inexpertly
contract, flex, stretch
kicking out your feet, curling teeny fingers with soft peach nails
practicing, exploring
muscles and bones that will grow
to be torn
to be broken
for blood to break through your skin binding
to rush out of those doors
and stain the ground, making it holy
staining me, making me holy

exams

he sits back in his seat with an air of carelessness
his pencil dangling almost daintily from his relaxed fingertips
an arm slung casually behind his seat back
the neat stack of white paper stapled and sitting before him
still warm from the printer
is not unkind
nor inviting
but awfully neutral
he gazes back, his eyes full of one message:
"i wish i had studied"
and with a sigh, he begins.

the sacrifice of making it last

leaves of varied color gathered in a pile
flower petals pressed between pages for a while
snowballs in the icebox making Winter tactile
pictures to keep each memory, meanwhile

the moment passes
and the beauty that doesn't last
instead of enjoyed,
is frozen and placed into a drawer

change is beautiful

waiting
hanging between old and new
like a breath caught and held
waiting for release
to give wholly over to a brilliance
that has already taken over the edges and is spreading
spreading insatiably
then
the trees are on fire
burning with radiant color
i want to reach up and gather the flames between my palms
to somehow be in touch with a beauty untouchable
with a splendor that overwhelms these eyes
filling them and filling them yet endlessly having more to give

the grandeur is glorious
the exquisiteness inexpressible
but the curious uniqueness of the process
the mingling in-between of green and glory
craves recognition

Africa scent

i want so badly to settle into that Africa smell tonight
like i did snuggled down into that old, slightly dirty leather truck seat,
sliding around in this dusty jean jacket
but i washed all my clothes and that smell is gone from all this fabric
even the jacket i bought there seems American
except for the small round giraffe-print emblem in the right-hand corner near the collar
and then i find myself identifying with Africa as the rest of the unaware populace--
a place of lions and zebras and elephants and lots and lots of...Africans
and not as the place with a face of friendship turned towards me
like the sun when it throws out its arms and soars upwards over sloping hills,
outlining and illuminating trees, tiny miniatures on the horizon,
to settle into its sky-seat for the day
i want to remember the feeling of welcome
the way laughter sounds
the way African winter feels on my skin when i'm huddled up and grumpy
but enjoying the crisp tingling secretly
i want to remember the touch of Africa, when it reaches out to grab you
abruptly
demanding you to emerge and be reborn under the sprayed reach
of the thorn trees

RETURN FROM AFRICA, episode 4

"Don't Forget..."

Laura,

As I see the fire being sucked out from within you, let me agree with Charles Spurgeon in saying "Instead of trying to revive yourself, offer prayers. Do not say, 'I will revive myself,' but cry, 'O Lord, revive thy work.' To say, 'I will revive myself,' reveals that you do not know your true state. If you knew your own true state, you would just as soon expect a wounded soldier on the battlefield to heal himself without medicine, or get himself to hospital when his arms or legs have been shot off as you would expect to revive yourself without the help of God."

It goes without saying that the change that occurred in you while abroad was from God--therefore, let Him be in control of that change even now. You didn't do it to yourself, so you aren't going to be able to maintain it. You had joy in serving the Lord in Africa because of the sense of SURRENDER you experienced. You came face-to-face with the giant AIDS and his cousin crisis, ORPHAN and standing before them, staring up into their daunting gaze, you were aware of your own utter insignificance. What freedom! Unable to live in the arrogant fabrication that you have an inherent power, that you have some control, you became a child again. Your work became enjoyable service for a kind master, rather than the furious busy-ness demanded by the tyrant SELF. Instead of going nowhere but deeper into the mire of your own inadequacies, you began to soar, to actually get somewhere, to make a real difference.

The dwindling of your passion, this gradual weighing down you are experiencing, is the result of self-made burdens. Let me help you lighten this heaviness by telling you the truth. Darkness flees before Light. Here is the Light: you are trying to live constantly in a state of joy and happiness by giving yourself daily "pep talks." You call these pep talks "devotions" but they aren't really about God at all. They are about you--about attaining a certain emotional state, not becoming closer to Him. Do you understand that you cannot make Him love you more through reading the Bible and praying? Do you understand that you cannot distance yourself from His love if you neglect these disciplines? You are trying to act like an adult, when all you achieve is "frightened orphan." Be a child again who realizes her place of belonging.

You feel the present like a punishment; you think that life is living in Africa. When you ask "revive thy work," you are really demanding "make me feel as I did then" and instead of waiting for an answer, but dive into your next plan to achieve that goal. Africa was a beautiful past, a vibrant, perfectly created stepping stone. Just as Africa was a God-plan formed just for you, this job, this NOW, is a God-plan...formed just for you.

Ask Him, truly ask Him, to revive His work in you. Ask Him with palms out and open and empty, the back-up plan in your pocket shredded before-hand. In fact, turn all your pockets out, too. No crossed fingers. No, come empty so that you can be filled. Don't lose hope, Dear One. REVIVE means that the work is already there. HIS means that it's not yours to worry about. IN YOU is an invitation to be a part of something grand.

The same God in Africa is the same God now...and yesterday and tomorrow and forever.

Love,
Me

P.s. This is NOT a pep talk!

coffee shop hospital

its not hard to hear the conversations around me--they are not hidden here. rather, everything is aired out in this environment: that's what it's for. people come here to take their burdens off, to undress just enough to expose some scars to a friend. you wouldnt think this would be an appropriate place--bagels and coffee and uniform square tables with four plastic-seated chairs pushed purposefully into the shape--but it's the only place it seems to happen. something about the aroma of coffee and the invitation to be here as long as you like makes it irresistable. its a cancer ward, "together" people filing in all smiles and fashion and $500 purses and shoes but we all fall apart the same after carefully choosing a seat in a comfortable corner. even the loners hunch against the wall with journals and laptops and gush emotion forth like a broken pipe. the world passes by outside the glass front oblivious to the trauma...and the healing within.

stumbling

tick tock watching
minutes drop
pages from a calendar ripped
off
stones causing ripples that will never be
doors that will never be
unlocked
again
mixing metaphors to say the hurt that
simmers behind
lips
a dish bitterly
a drink bitterly
sipped
even though its wrong
it cant be ripped from
uncertain fingertips

RETURN FROM AFRICA, episode 3

"Don't Forget..."

Laura,

the number one greatest phenomena that occurred in Africa: you forgot about yourself.

I sense that the memory of this is quickly passing from your mind of late. Who knew it would be so easy to let go of upon return to the States? Well, you're learning now. Let's bring it home to roost (as they say) once more. You were so afraid that you would be the same old self-aware YOU when you went to SA, weren't you? Your goal was to re-orient on the whole "IMAGE" issue...hopefully by the end of the summer, however pessimistic you were that it would happen. Understandable--being skeptical that something that had such a hold on you would be altered by even a life-changing experience like this trip.

And what did you discover? It wasn't a dream--say it out loud: YOU CHANGED. Within the first week, your attention to self dissipated and, vision unveiled, you SAW OTHERS. Time spent face-to-face with flesh and blood and the open, beating life of people replaced time spent before your reflection in disapproval. You not only spent less time in conscious thought about your body, you almost stopped thinking about it all together.

I think it's appropriate to assume that the lack of commercials and magazines--advertisements for idolatry of self more than the product being sold--were a part of this effect. You know that's not all, though. The fact is that when you held the concepts of weight and wardrobe into the light of the TRUTH about life's design, they shriveled so fast that they fell out of your hand, not waiting anymore for you to willingly let go.

It was not hard to see to Life's core in a place where people weren't certain where their next meal was coming from, only owned one pair of shoes, were involuntarily uneducated and probably unemployed; women barely in their 20's raising two kids alone; 15 year-olds becoming the head of their household in the blink of an eye; minimum wage barely cresting $250 a month and causing fathers to spend whole weeks away from the family they are trying to support. What perspective this affords! LAURA: In no way can life be about the clothes you wear, the furniture you own, the car you drive, the size house you have, the size pants you wear--for crying out loud, it can't be about that because most people in most countries in the world can't even afford to THINK about those things, much less let them direct and control their life path.

You know what is left, when all those lies are exposed: human life. The very image of God on earth, and you have a lifetime here to nurture it, share it, encourage it and in turn be shaped and encouraged by it. Each obsessive thought about image and reputation is a waste of the precious gift of time. Oh, you were so drawn into that vibrant way of living--existence orbiting around relationship (ah, I see your face is changing...you understand...it was so contagious and so desirable, it wasn't hard to leave the old habits behind). Well, good news: there's human life here in Greensboro, too....and anywhere else you could ever go, for that matter. You don't have to leave that perspective behind. After all, Truth is Truth no matter where you go or what choices you make.

I know it is hard not to return to seeing life through this convenient lens, but raise your eyes, Laura, look above! Let the Light of Heaven illuminate what comes before you and when that happens, and Truth stands out bold and smiling while Falsity shrinks back into shadow, choose to stand fast next to it, choose to live life each day standing FAST next to it.

"I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR, most Gracious Lord.
No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.
I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR, in joy or pain.
Come quickly and abide, or life is in vain.
I NEED THEE, O, I NEED THEE;
EVERY HOUR, I NEED THEE.
O, bless me now, my Savior,
I come to thee!"


Illumined,
Me

RETURN FROM AFRICA, episode 2

"DON'T FORGET..."

Laura,

who knows why you never caught on before Africa, but do you remember while you were there and your head began to clear and you were able to see clearly (like when you wipe the steam off the bathroom mirror after a hot bath) your gifts, your strengths? remember how good it felt to see that in humility and honesty--without boastfulness or shyness because you were just staring at the TRUTH? they were plain as day before you and all it took was a little QUIET in your mind to be able to see them, standing there as real as always but now in true form in the absence of your inflating pride or deflating self-degradation.

you realized you are kind and you enjoy lavishing others with that kindness. you felt the wideness of a smile in your chest when you saw the expressions on their faces, but you learned also to relish the secret expression of enjoyment when you gave anonymously. this quality goes nicely with your generosity, which (though at times curtailed by an innate selfishness inherited from dear great great great great--etc.--grandpa Adam) you love to give free reign when resources allow.

you prioritize people and have a chord of unity running through you that tugs and tugs on your (rather introverted) heart until you find yourself bound up in community wherever you go. you love to see people engaging, talking, sharing life. your congenital creativity helps marvelously to compose space that facilitates fellowship. your ears are tuned to listen and although you feel content to watch a room full of people knowing and loving one another, you are truly fulfilled when you are given the opportunity to intentionally know an individual. your "perfect date" is a good cup of coffee and a good conversation and you thrive on deliberate friendship. you understand now, don't you, why you feel dried out (a bit like a raisin) when you are unable to get past small talk and social games? honesty and invitation into a life is water to your soul--yes, it's only natural, seeing as how you were designed that way.

now don't misunderstand or misread; let me be absolutely clear: these qualities do not come naturally to all human beings. you have been gifted these characteristics and "humble" denial doesn't help a thing. just recognize them and embrace their place in your existence. your "modesty" has really been a lack of boldness that has kept these gifts from being used. Africa was a stepping stone, but it's now a wonderful past: move forward with what it helped to reveal to you. it's never too late, dust them off and start exercising those atrophied muscles. He has always been proud of the intentional way He pieced you together--bask it that and let it recharge you.

looking FORWARD with expectation,
Me

RETURN FROM AFRICA, episode 1

"DON'T FORGET..."

Laura,

don't forget how much slower everything moved in Africa. when you were there, it may have started out as a frustrating African habit, but by the end of the summer, you realized that those times you had to wait ended up being time to spend growing in relationship with someone, or enjoying the scenery or a rich cup of coffee that you wouldn't have otherwise enjoyed. in the end, you were so glad for those times, and were able to see the value in taking your time.

don't forget the DELIBERATENESS you grew into through those forced times of patience. you have learned to take your time when you eat, to be present in the moment of a conversation, to notice the things around you, to enjoy moments as they are. Africa has taught you to be cognitive in the hours, minutes, seconds that you are physically in, rather than looking ahead to the next moment, and the next and the next, until you find yourself always living a sort of half-life, in between now and then and never really being anywhere that you might enjoy it.

so when you are late for work and the car in front of you is going the speed limit when you want to go five over, remember patience, remember deliberateness.
when you have a few minutes before you have to leave for something, don't waste them fidgeting and tapping your foot, be in that moment with enjoyment and find something to help you savor it.
when you are in conversation with someone, and there's so much going on around you and so many people to see and talk to, be present, aware, and listen as if they were the only person, and that is the only moment in time--they are worth it.
and when you find that life is a whirlwind and you cant quite keep up the pace, be conscious of your need for quiet, for unhurried-ness, and take a walk, or sit somewhere beautiful and let things slow to Africa speed again.

but even when you can't, know that things in America are inherently at break-neck speed, and the intentionality of time has to be a filter in your brain that you choose every day. no excuses, just stay aware and ask for help from the Maker of Time.

Sincerely,
Me

the world is in me
spinning
365 days a year in my bones

i want your universe in me
orbiting predictably
in this cosmos of skin
filling me with light

star gazing

hello, sweet things
staring down at me
two beaming eyes shyly veiled
behind the lacy trees
i feel like a giant who could reach up
and snatch you from the sky with ease

please remind me how small i am
that you are burning big and furiously
fantastically and boldly
across the distance
and that i really am just a speck beneath your gaze

Laura's Status in adverb clauses

Laura sits down with emptiness in her stilled fingertips because there is too much to say.

Laura breaks open each word like an egg and sifts through the contents as if they were hastily cracked and there are shells mixed in since she couldn't be bothered to take her time.

Laura is screaming as if her voice could be heard where she is sounding it while she lets all her breath out in this long exhale.

Laura isn't sure why life has to be this grand enigma since every day is spent trying to crack this code although she has to do other things too while she attempts to unfurl the mystery as it goes and makes itself all the more complicated.

Laura straightens then hunches over and over again while she thinks as they lift then weigh her down where she cant pick up her chin without a fight because its too heavy and they are well trained while she is quite new at all this.

hands

as we sit
around this table dimly lit by candles reflecting off its shining surface
i watch your hands and not your mouths because
there is a theme that they express in their subtle kind of way
as they move, as if they didn't have the loudest voices here
speaking, expressing their theme
one has a band aid, camouflaged like skin, mysteriously curving up the wrist and into the palm
one has tiny cuts visible in the candlelight, healed over one by one
and the skin of others are smooth as cream, the brightness of diamonds and soft silver bangles only accents to natural beauty
they are moving with grace, and gentleness
or big with exaggerated expressiveness
but they all reach for the same foods
they all curve around the same wine glasses to bring them to ready lips
and we speak with similar words saying similar things
and even in our ten digits
there is a whisper of sameness

the trinity defined

Jesus is the hands
that hold me, on either side of my face
gently supporting
palm-side is soft but i can feel the callouses on the end of his
fingers and they bring images to my mind of hard
labor of sweat and toil
his fingers sweep the hair off my brow
trace my eyes and feel my skin
his movements tell me he appreciates me
that he is astounded by the beauty and revels wordlessly in it

the Spirit is the eyes that penetrate mine
we are nose to nose,
forehead to forehead
and when he looks at me, he is communicating everything to me
when he stares unbroken into my eyes
he is knowing me
his gaze sweeps me clean, the corners
full of light
and cobwebs exposed
i am an open room being filled and illuminated
and all the phantoms shrink until they vanish in a puff of black smoke

God-he is also the voice
that is soundlessly booming and ricocheting
through my skull like...
the seeds of a cloud-like daisy blown wishfully into the wind
little dancing seahorses
it says to me "no need"
it says to me " look no where but here"
he says to me "take not your eyes from this place"
and "i delight in you my beauty"

Laura Fissel's Top Ten

Ten Reasons why I don't want to:

10. years ago, that was me in that desk
9. times out of ten, they didn't read their homework
8. to 5 is such a relative concept
7. 0 gets you a D--why are they okay with that?
6. cups of coffee still isn't enough caffeine
5. minutes before class starts, i get the butterflies...you never grow out of the "oh crap" moment
4. almost an hour, i explain every way i can but its still not enough
3. days go by before i even catch my breath
2. many things to teach and not enough time!
1. person is responsible for so many futures

Ten Reasons why i do:

10. months for school, two for summer
9. times out of ten, they don't laugh at the jokes; that one time they do, it's a powerful feeling
8. years of school at least, and i'm still learning!
7.pm at the basketball game showing interest and building trust
6. periods a day and each one with a unique personality
5. days at a time to be a positive influence
4. years to witness time and maturity and growth's astounding power
3. paychecks a month, if i'm lucky
2. be a part of shaping a life is priceless
1. day at a time--tomorrow is a clean slate

when i finally give up at the end of the day

in the wee hours of the...night
i discovered some things about myself. After a day of shutting down
(like a street lamp when you're driving down the highway in those moments between dawn and day and thousands of volts just stop shining--vwhomp)
a whole day of turning my back to you every time you walked around me to front and center again (a frustrating game)
an entire 24 hours of pretending there was nothing to think about
holding thoughts feelings emotions at bay (hound dogs frothing at the mouth--they smell the kill)
at the end of it all, lying in bed, my mind fell open like a dying flower and
i learned some things about me.

i hate pretending that i dont want to talk to you.
i hate that silence that grows between us, a wall of water daunting but so easy to pass through with a bit of courage.
when i ignore you, i am ignoring myself, too.
but when i think of you, i am frustrated.

you spread your love out sky-wide like a banquet ready
and tell me, "eat! it's all yours!"
but i cant fly and i dont have a plane and as far as i know, humans cant self-levitate so
how the hell am i supposed to get to it?

when i think of reaching out to grab what you are offering,
it feels like work--hours and hours of building and sweating and climbing and effort
and it shrinks each time i stop trying
i always find myself on level ground--so terribly flat, so dreadfully hard and unforgiving

every day is a potluck (but not with covered-casserole dishes)
one day im determined, crawling and clawing my way to the sky
the next i bury my face in the earth and cry
"you are Love!" i scream
and i whisper inside, "would Love do this?"

the covers are too warm, but outside im too cold
but as i try to fall asleep, the discomfort is mostly from my inner dialogue
i always say that the problem is with me
but every day i find it hard to believe
Your song over me, that you fill my need
that You are pursuing and we no longer bleed
to be with You.

infinitive: TO BE

That's the problem: I am.
You are the I Am
so i don't have to be
what i was
doesn't match the is
because You have
and will
my being is in You
You've been
and always will be
i don't have to ask will
or are or were
because
You are
I Am.

Organic

God is organic and we reflect that part of his image.
He is the vine, we are the branches.
We are like trees, planted by streams of water.
The fruits of our Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, self-control.
He is the bread of life, the living water.
His word is a seed that won't return to him void.
We are seeds planted in fertile ground that bear fruit.
His people are a vineyard that he cares for and tends lovingly.
We are sheep, he is the shepherd.
We are salt, sent to flavor the world.

Because we are organic, we grow and need specific conditions to do this; we go through seasons, experiencing life, death and life again; we are connected to each other and affect one another; and we have a creator--we do not bring life to ourselves, we do not give purpose to ourselves, but we are given life and purpose and a cycle of being by one with greater power than ourselves, the creator.

He wears it well

the sky is a garment
of silk
dark blue extending beyond sight
color softening into soft cloud patterns
fringed with the unique lacey outline of trees and mountains
He wears it well as he looks down with a smile

it is never the same twice
reflecting different facets of who he is, not what he feels
he is powerful
he is beautiful
he is unpredictable
he is huge
he is unique, colorful, vibrant, gentle
he is mysterious