Wings of the Spirit

When we can’t be with the ones we love, in good times and bad, I believe God connects us with His Spirit in powerful ways.
 
God bless,
Morgan
 

“Wings of the Spirit”
 
despite the years I could run down the street
    to find you, turn a corner and embrace you, now,
when it seems to matter most,
my feet can’t cross
     the miles and my hands can’t 
reach your face. 
Ground and water lie between, and we are
       connected by fragile 
               phone lines like threads of tinsel
       laying over dark evergreen. 
Bridging the wound of
            distance now is heaven’s gift of spirit. I swear to you
                that my soul knows wind and sky by name and has flown 
      your way to watch over you, wrap around you,
and whisper peace to you. Turn the corner in your heart
        and I am there.

 
 
Creative Commons License
Wings of the Spirit by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Advertisements

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 15 “Wings Will Come”

The last poem of my collection about my family’s move to Arizona ends with a poem I have shared before. In my family’s journey is sadness and joy, challenges and blessings. God has been with us through all these things and will continue to transform us as we go forward.
 
This is the end of the 15-poem collection called Wings Will Come: Journey. Thanks for reading along and sharing these moments with me.
 
I am now going to move to posting new poems every 2 weeks. Look for the next one a couple weeks from now!
 
God bless,
Morgan
 

“Wings Will Come”
Reflection
 
it is invasive and clings
    around me, a constant reminder.
trapped: changing and no way
      to chew free of bindings 
            I spun myself with wishes and choices
         that I never knew could lead here.
but in the gauzy darkness i
know the wings
    will come.
 
you have been hoping for your own day
         in the open 
     for even longer than I have.
I cannot see you anymore,
     but somewhere in your own cocoon
  you are growing colors like 
      Arizona sunsets
that are outlined with your bold resolve
     like an inked sketch of
     your future.
 
let’s meet in the air,
you and I.

 
Creative Commons License
wings will come by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 14 “The house will fill again”

This poem is about the first day my brother and I were alone in the family house, which we would be renting from our parents as they moved to Arizona. It was a surreal day, but we promised ourselves that however empty the house felt now, we would work to fill it with the same love and hospitality that our parents had in their many years there. Sometimes God asks us to stay behind to be the new light.
 
Next week, I conclude the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the fifteenth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
“The house will fill again”
The first day
 
hello, empty house.
we do not want to face you yet
but here we are.
 
we come back from the airport
confused, just waiting
to see Dad at his office desk
working too early already
or Mom bent over her sewing machine.
every hour is another rain shower,
but we push through.
 
we build and move,
and pray and learn.
 
the house will fill again.
 
together, brother to sister,
we promise that we will
keep the invisible spirit of the house
alive: open doors and safe haven,
a legacy of hospitality our family
embedded into the foundation
of our house and our hearts.
 
Come to the nest
where we keep safe
as we learn our wings.
 
 
Creative Commons License
The house will fill again by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 13 “Traveling Bard”

My mom was the last of my family to move out west to Arizona. As the number of days to her departure dwindled, we spent time together reading, watching, and discussing old favorite stories. My mom has always been a woman of stories, and she instilled that same love in my brother and me. Through books and movies in the last week, we found strength in cherished memories and encouragement in the tales that had shaped our imaginations and philosophies since childhood. In these hours, I believe God helped ground us in familiarity and then gave us the grace to turn to the next chapters.
 
To catch up for the past few weeks, I will be posting several poems of the collection in short succession. Look for the fourteenth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
 
“Traveling Bard”
To Mom
 
you and I have been reading
a story together while you
flood recipe cards with ink.
we sit amidst boxes, boxes, boxes
and share a tale of hellos and goodbyes.
 
you, my brother, and I have been watching
one of our favorite old films of action, wit,
and adventure while we huddle together
remembering decades of our everyday journeys
that have tested our courage to the quick.
 
you, my brother, your soul-sister, and I have been playing
a trivia game that dredges up details from one of the oldest
stories that unites us: one of a long way forward
to great change. before it is over, we four
crowd in the dark around a TV screen to see a preview
of a new start to another cherished story that we’ll see completed
from different corners of the earth.
 
you have been a storyteller to me
since I had ears to hear.
you are off to be a traveling bard
while I keep by the fireside
until sun comes and I go
to live out the lessons nestled in
your tales.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Traveling Bard by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 12 “Family Photos”

My PopPop was the next person to move with my parents to Arizona. My dad flew back from the new house to fly him out to the west. For a little while, we were all back together again. We took that time to crowd together in a family photo in our house of boxes and change, remembering what had been and looking ahead together to what will be. God blesses us with moments of memory, and He strengthens us to keep walking into a new present with new possibilities.
 
To catch up for the past few weeks, I will be posting several poems of the collection in short succession. Look for the thirteenth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
“Family photos”
To all my family
 
the five of us cram together to
fit in the camera lens
one last time before the house
is different and father and grandfather
spread wings to the West.
 
after the flash, we peer at
the tiny digital screen
to make sure we’re all there.
 
what fills the family photo frame
will change.
even as the takeoff still roars
in my ears I see different faces
crowd around me, put hands
on my shoulder, and smile.
some are new and some
are as well known
to me as my innermost bones.
 
I display the new photos and the old
side-by-side in my heart.
Under this sun, they each take
their place and their time:
equal jewels to hold.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Family Photos by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 11 “Just Us”

My brother drove west with my father to help him get settled in my parents’ new house in Arizona. After a few weeks, I flew out to meet my brother for our friends’ wedding in New Mexico, after which he and I flew home together. It had been almost a month since we’d seen each other, and the weekend trip in New Mexico was full of catching up and then looking ahead at the last steps of the move. One thing I know for certain is that my brother was one of the greatest blessings God gave me throughout this time. Without his calm, wisdom, faith, and support, I don’t know I would have gotten through. This poem is for Duncan, brother and friend.
 
Next week, I continue the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the twelfth poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
 
“Just Us “
To Duncan
 
sandy-bright glare of
New Mexico highway flashes by
while brother and sister
fill the rental car with stories
from East and West,
swapping tales like trading cards.
 
it is just us out here,
rolling on to celebrate
the new beginnings
of our friends in the mountains.
 
it is just us going back.
we don’t feel ready.
we don’t have answers.
in the pitch-black drive
winding out of the mountains
to a morning flight out
we figure one thing:
we are going home.
what that is has changed
and will change.
we are half of our family,
East to their West.
 
Even unready, I
am at least not alone.
we won’t have the answers,
but we will have enough.
We say to each other:
we have gotten this far.
 
brother and sister
take flight home.
what that is has changed
and will change
into new beginnings.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Just Us by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Wings Will Come: Journey – Part 10 “Phone Line”

My parents and grandfather moved out to Arizona in stages, and my dad was the first to leave. The first few weeks without him were surreal, but reality settled in slowly but surely, and the separation seemed enormous. Looking back on that time, though, I am now able to see that God continued to connect and sustain my family despite the new distance between us.
 
Next week, I continue the story of my family’s move and God’s goodness in the change in the eleventh poem of my collection, “Wings Will Come: Journey.”
 
God bless,
Morgan
 

“Phone Line”
To Dad
 
You leave first.
on a sunny summer morning
     we stand at the top of
     our driveway, your Prius packed
         to bursting for your journey.
I pretend you’re leaving on
       a business trip
     or a vacation.
I pretend you’ll be right back.
 
then you’re sending pictures
    of the new house,
telling us about your day
     across a phone line.
I desperately fill in the distance with 
      shovelfuls of it’s not really happening.
 
but when it’s not really happening
   suddenly becomes it is
my strong front crumbles
       into rainfall.
 
Change can be ignored
     but transformation consumes.
When pretending runs dry
     I look for deeper waters
that will sustain.
 
The phone line and the pictures
     tutor me, one on one,
that I have focused on the divide
       and not the connection.
God does not make the miles
      between us shrink, 
      but He shows me that our bonds
                       are growing and stretching
              along highways to unknowns
       and don’t come untied.

 
 
Creative Commons License
Phone Line by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Previous Older Entries