Their embrace

Their embrace

When I was a child I saw them embrace
standing still, holding close, arms wrapped around
face to face
eyes connected
giggles, coos and moans
smiles
warmth
light
gentle
no words
just a gentle sway
holding close
stealing the moment of the day.
-A poem about Joyce and Ron Harmon, mom and dad when I was a child. C.Gruman 2/8/15

Truth and Rain

Truth and Rain
A poem by Cathy Gruman, 03/11/13 (updated 3/4/16)

First you were
then you weren't
then I thought you were
but you really weren’t
then you said you were
then I wasn’t sure
although you knew
you wouldn’t tell
so I kept on under your spell.
Then I suspected
but still didn’t know
so you let the lies grow and grow
and because of my heart
not too smart
when it comes to love
I acted stupid
that’s right
stupid;
a least favorite word of mine
but fit so well
under your spell
I felt stupid.
Then a light came
a glimmer of truth
dropped under my nose
and sent me in the right direction
and not much longer
out yonder
the truth
it grew and grew
and took a shape that I could finally see, believe and know
enough to finally leave.

Then the rain comes as it always seems to do when I am feeling the art of healing and freeing in my soul.
I love you rain, you help make me whole.

Days of snow (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

Sprinkle salt to melt the ice,
the north winds blow
and they cut through the air like knives.
A walk outside is desirable,
until I open the door and feel the punch of the unrelenting cold.
It continues for a while
making my head weary;
then temperatures rise
and the ground begins to melt.
Consistent days of sun invite the grass to peek through the white cover;
ice turns to slush, and one less layer is needed as I head up the hill.
(cg updated 3/4/16)

Receiving (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

No more a whisper,
an awkward name
in circles of disdain
rolling off lips
in criticism, praise, jokes
contrast and comparisons
seeming to know
Jesus
All mixed up
the good the bad
"sinners"
all of us the same
I wrestle with it all and resist others' call.
How I detest those who self appointment themselves with the task of sorting it out for the rest of us;
confusion, distance, self doubt, self hatred, paralysis,
we wonder where these come from.
I find joy in partaking of the gift that comes
from not knowing but receiving the gift of being.

Silliness (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

A joyful day involved silliness with people who let themselves be free and fun not being stifled by anyone.
Sharing of food and drinks and a bad but brilliant old school horror film in silent mode brought laughter and jokes and pokes.
The dogs ran free in the house and the humans sat on the couch.
Walking in the dark to the car elicited a blood curdling scream, screech and a gasp when the tree posed as a zombie from the very bad movie.
And we laughed almost all the way home.

You, me and this (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

you be you and I'll be me
and we'll sort this thing out together
i'll try not to overlook your point of view
while attempting to express my own
i've already made a poor assumption
before we even begin
that we can promote our needs simultaneously
may one of us step back and allow the other to speak first?

Appalachian named a Best Southeastern College by the Princeton Review » News Archive » Appalachian State University News

Appalachian named a Best Southeastern College by the Princeton Review » News Archive » Appalachian State University News

The Sun that Day (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

The day he died
his body lay exposed on the hospital bed, my boys huddled near;
their grandpa, his grandsons; our loss, we grieved.
While driving home on the 605 Freeway South,
all was still.
I looked at the sky; a soft solid dull blue, showcasing the sun.
A full and perfectly round ball of orange fire resting on the horizon,
reminding me of the warm steady light he was in our lives.

Present Day (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

If He is God and knows our every thought
then we have no need to pretend
Perhaps our focus is pleasing others
and has nothing to do with Him at all,
although we want others to believe that to be the case
If His promises are real
then we should be living like
royal children in a kingdom of love peace and joy
without worry or regret
and maybe we would stop hating ourselves
masked with lists of things to do
and reminding ourselves of what we haven't done
acting in a way that doesn't reflect who we are
putting a dull and grim light around our countenance,
a result of keeping ourselves captive
What would please Him most is simply to be in His presence,
do we know what that really means
or have we concocted several notions developed
in our small brains
among conversationalists and institutions
and guilt ridden fear
Can we sit with the thought of simply being in His presence and see what it might bring?
If we don't think that is enough, then perhaps we have missed the whole point of His creation and He is not the God He says He is.

creating chaos (a Poem by Cathy Gruman)

creating chaos from a pile of rubble
when it could have remained calm.
If only they knew that what was before them was non-threatening
and only mere clutter.

june gloom (a poem by Cathy Gruman)

june gloom
gets swept away like a broom
july sets in
almost passes before the fireworks begin
yesterday's not coming back
but it's only perfection we all lack
bring it all forward or leave it alone;
or sift out the cluttery mess that has grown.
august and september will be here soon
bringing me october
with the Harvest moon.

Blessings (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

Guidelines are helpful
when we need them,
important points, rules can keep us safe.
Boundaries keep relationships straight.
Books and videos, discussion groups, meet-ups, studies, sermons and classes.
All good, can be necessary and right, and might I say, much needed - at times.
Taking things slow, caution and propriety can be our friends.
But there is a time and a purpose for everything under the sun.
And when God plops that blessing in your lap
without notice or an outline of next steps,
don't hesitate.
Just take it and enjoy the blessing.

Question the Question (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Ask the question
Question the question
Beg the question
Listen to the answer
Rely on nothing
But the truth inside you
Telling you what is
who is
and who He is to you.
Break down the box
Flat
Stomp out the chatter
The clutter
The strain
Until nothing remains
but the flat smooth surface
Of nothing
Nothing in the way of listening
Hearing
Responding
Being
Living
Feeling
Fresh blood pumping through your veins
You’re ready to fly and begin again.

Love Wins (A Poem by Cathy Gruma)

Someone lied to me
and told me I needed to even the score;
that I must mock back;
they have to understand what they did to me
before I forgive them.
Someone lied to me
when they told me
to "put them in their place"
to stay away until they finally wake up
and do their part
to satisfy my need to be accepted and understood by them;
until they say,
"Oh, I am sorry
you didn't deserve that
you deserve so much more
I was wrong
I acted wrongly toward you
I am so sorry."
Someone lied to me
when they told me to get revenge
that turning the other cheek was a fairytale for weaklings;
the only thing to do is fight
to make them see
to get justice
for me.
As long as I live
I may never see justice for me.
I may never hear the words I need to hear
to help me let go and forgive,
but the lies I have heard will not remedy my soul
nor increase my understanding.
Forgive
Let go and see
not with hate or from a resentful place;
the truth is opposite
of what that liar said to me.
The truth chooses love
believes in love
lives love;
and knows that love has more power than the strongest and most powerful army of sticks, stones, guns, and words, of plans, schemes, retaliation and fear.
Love wipes out fear
brings peace.
That liar is still stalking me,
but his voice is muffled
because I choose not to listen.
Love wins.

I Remember (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Horses and bikes and pools,
books and puzzles, coloring books and board games,
homemade cookies and cinnamon toast.
Homemade daisy curtains, I helped you make them.
They were yellow and orange on white cotton.
We squeezed the acrylic paint from the tube onto the fabric.
Eggs and bacon always seemed to be enough,
and Jello.
Hardwood floors and bunkbeds,
Hide and go seek until sundown, you always brought us in before dark.
Waiting for a Cinderella movie to begin,
we watched the clock in your bedroom, with the hands moving slowly to 7 p.m.
I remember your big hip earrings
your pretty hair
your pretty face
your eyeliner and mascara
and pretty lipstick
your "Jackie O" look.
I remember looking at you,
your walk dignified, your posture strong and elegant
but soft.
The little white church
where you brought us
and taught us.
The potlucks,
your singing groups and choir friends,
your laugh, your smile, your fun,
your face.
I remember our home
that you made for us
I remember you, mom
You.

Humbled by a Crackhead (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

I learned about love from a crack head today.
I was blue and he was sober, his three hundred and eighty-sixth day.
In the parking lot we were talking.
I was troubled and he was thankful.
His life was turning around.
Dreadlocks and a missing tooth,
and he was smiling.
I told him my woes,
and he listened.
He used his history
to reveal a mystery
that his brokenness
is what put him together.
His history didn't fit today's story.
It made no sense to me.
Then I realized
as I looked into his eyes,
behind his face was saving grace.
The part that broke him
was no longer his disgrace.

Water (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

I need a new handbag
My hair needs a trim
In three more weeks I’ll see results from the gym
My morning coffee, a dewy walk
Pretty trees and people with their houses stocked

“I need a drink of water.”

And tonight I’ll watch a movie
scan through the channels
putter around with all my things
straighten the clutter
obsess over what I need

“I’m thirsty, can you help me carry this pot,I have two more miles”

All my plans seem worthy
my education intact
with wiggle room for error
no monkey on my back
The movie’s at three
and all I have to do is this and that
grab a bite to eat
and maybe when I get there I’ll pig out on popcorn
Heaven knows I don’t need it, but it’s the movies...

“My mouth is dry, my feet are sore and I ache.”

I hear a subtle voice
I turn away
It's not a blatant image
but shades of gray
until I turn and look it will remain vague and have nothing to do with me
but if I look straight into his eyes I"ll see.

Oversights tragically ignored.

Darkness Crushed (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

She couldn’t see a way
Her life had been taken over by these last few years, living out the path she had chosen.
She didn’t see a way out
Darkness surrounded her
Her flesh showed the stains of moments she would try to carve away the pain
But the sorrow remained
Her soul is marred
A light glimmers faintly in the distance
Flickering like a match about to go out but steady, promising to stay
She wanted to go there but forces within her held her down and she couldn’t break away

And before His final breath, He said “It is finished.”
And as the prophets spoke before
The curtain torn
Our flesh he bore abolished in the grave
Death no longer had its sting
What they knew now
Was different from before
The earth rumbled in triumph and defeat
And the depths of hell screamed in defiance and conquered feat
His body was laid in a tomb
with a massive stone and guards
His family wept, still confused
The sun stopped shining as the brightest star was in the grave
But as promised like the promises before that came to pass, every one of them before
He rose on the third day
His Father’s side he will abide
His spirit with us now
With promise of his return
Another promise to endure, to wait upon
But like the others that were fulfilled
We continue to move on
What does this mean to you and me?

She will get up off of the floor, even without strength; she’ll reach to where the light is and faintly mutter the words “help me”, because it’s all she has within her to convey her deepest need – but she knows, she knows it’s where she needs to be. Because of the meaning of “It is finished” her need is taken into His hands and she begins to see the light, once flickering in her peripheral vision, is now enveloping her and embracing the stain that once had hold of her but is now behind her.

Time to Abate (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Much lost
much hate
held on too long
our love is gone.
Letting go was slow -
too slow to free the robin's song,
who flew away
to breath
to see
to soar;
could not take another day's roar.
No forgiveness
suffocation
emasculation
dead air
without the river's flow.
The window's stuck; the last day open was early spring before the unexpected storm,
and when the rains came
our lives were torn.
Dead today
could be alive tomorrow
if we let go.
It's time to abate the force of holding on to the past;
let the robin sing with joy,
and throw the window open to feel the wind again.

The Hope of Your Life (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

The darkness continued and He held on
to the hope and the glory of His Father’s song.
His early years he played
Safe, warm, adored
with his mother near.
And as the chapters turn,
He’s 33 and wearing thorns.
I know who I am
I know whom I love
I know my Father is watching and crying from above;
and for all of you I’m here today;
it is for your lives that I stayed.
The next moment you will not understand
I will seem to disappear from this land.
My body broken,
my face my limbs, my blood - they show defeat,
but my hope and courage are shouting loudly
I am breaking through the clouds
The task is finished,
and into my Father’s hands I go.
Now the hope of your life will surely show.