Seekers’ Palindrome by Peter Bankson test

In our community,

The life of Christ,

That sense of Immanent Creation,

Is the vision bringing us

Together in one body.

Seekers,

Looking for the Holy Spirit here –

An inner voice that guides;

Becoming church that celebrates diversity;

An image of the world

United by

A common understanding.

The love of God

Calls forth our gifts and pains,

The brick and mortar of the future.

The brick and mortar of the future

Calls forth our gifts and pains-

The love of God.

A common understanding,

United by

An image of the world

Becoming church that celebrates diversity.

An inner voice that guides,

Looking for the Holy Spirit here.…

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Have Faith by Emmy Lu Daly

Go ahead, give it a shot.
Give all of it – everything you’ve got.
You’ll get it back, don’t worry.
Don’t be impatient, don’t scurry.

But say it doesn’t come back.
Will you be lost, lose track?
Don’t let it take you down.
Just keep yourself going, you’ll get the crown.

We worry too much, too long.
Always thinking something will go wrong.
Look up, look out, see beauty everywhere.
Walk, sing, laugh, twirl, without a care.

Sure, there’ll be an up and down.
But have faith, there really is love all around.…

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Depression 1932 by Emmy Lu Daly

Hard times in Stillwater. We got by.
We bartered advertisements for food, clothing, coal.
Others, not so lucky.
When the Rices ran out of coal, they’d camp out in our house.
We’d huddle around the table, work on jigsaw puzzles to forget.
We’d go sliding down the long hill in front of our house,
dressed warm enough to join Admiral Byrd at the North Pole.

Come March the snow began to melt.
We’d launch tin cans to sail on the streams rushing down the gullies.
High hilarity, Spring was here, almost.
Roosevelt, the NRA, the CCC slowly brought out of the
Depression.…

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Be Careful What You Ask For by Emmy Lu Daly

Fingers numb, neck stiff, nose red.
Ah, how I dream of a warmer time.
Will it ever come? Will I make it to then?
Months pass. I am expiring at the bus stop.
Fruitlessly fanning my face with a newspaper,

about to dissolve into the concrete.

Why, why did I ever long for a midsummer’s day?
Wouldn’t I be happier if I learned to accept what is

and just live with it?…

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The VA Pharmacy by Emmy Lu Daly

“Now serving #156 at Station #3.”
One by one, on and on.
Dumbed and numbed
Veterans all.

WW II, Korea, Vietnam,
distant wars now.
WW II – the “good” war
Korea – the “forgotten war
Vietnam – the “Wasted” war.

#156 slowly raises his head,
pushes his wheel chair,
his one leg plaid panted,
belly hanging loosely.

One more trip to Station #3.
What’ll it be this time?
A pill for his cholesterol?
Maybe something for his COPD,
Or his “a-fib”?
How about a stronger pain pill for his arthritis?

Whatever. He’s supposed to be grateful,
lucky to get all this care and drugs.…

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