Good Haunting: A poem for Pentecost The first time I heard her stutteringsmooth edged call from the woods,I said Thank You out loud,oddly grateful to be awake. To have the conscious knowingthat I was within her wingspan,that she was keeping deep, soft vigilover me and all that rested within me. Ethereal, yes, and good haunting.A…
Author: Kimberly M. King
Progressive Events
While I have never participated in such a thing, I understand the idea of progressive meals among a group of friends…one house for appetizers, one for the main meal, one for dessert, another for coffee, etc. It’s cumulative in many ways… The meal, for sure, and also the experiences, the number of people, the laughter,…
And That Covers Just about Everything
Not long ago I found myself in the middle of a group of people and various means of communication, all trying to sort out a schedule…Multiple people, some texting, some phoning, etc. After several flips and shifts over the course of a couple of hours, it seemed as though everyone was at last on the…
Light and Salvation
Psalm 27 was the psalm today…I read it aloud at community prayer and then played an astounding version by the Notre Dame Folk choir on their Catch the Spirit live album. The feeling I had within me came out sounding like a poem… Light and Salvation Sometimes oh,sometimes it feels like the psalmist is singingmy song,…
Good Friday, 2025
By way of a friend who is also a homilist I admire, I find myself here on Good Friday considering the Latin root passio, meaning suffering, enduring, being acted upon. In all of my language and faith loving years, it never occurred to me to look up why the suffering and death of Jesus is…
During a Poet’s Fallow Time (For SPS who asked me to Pray)
Thanksgiving prayer during a Poet’s Fallow Time For the curves and fascinations of language, the nuances and crevices where meaningblooms brilliant with life at the nourishing spark of creation. for the displacement of soilby hope stretching toward light;for the tentative shootsof maybe, perhaps; for the quiet that cradles words in the kindness of time as they rest their syllables,…
Good drawing out Good (or a morning at the Market)
When my schedule allows it, Saturday morning means a trip to the Halifax Seaport Farmers’ Market. There is so much about it that appeals to me…the artistic wonder that is the organic tapestry of different vegetables…all of the colours, textures, shapes, flavours… And the living mosaic of humanity too…The sensory input—the patter of vendors and…
Good Stories…from the Market and the Journal
8:13 AM…At the Market. What a fabulous first several minutes here this morning! Ran into B while getting a Saturday Flat White and after months of greeting one another every Saturday, today she mentioned her partner of many, many years who sends B to the market with a list because she, the partner, does the…
Binding Dust–A Poem
Ash Wednesday, with its accompanying symbols and rituals, is still resonating within me the day following. In the past, I have wondered why not “You are glory and unto Glory you shall return?” This year, however…with so much crumbling…the idea of dust–and not only the idea, but the reality, of dust…it settles closer to Centre…
For such a saving Love…(from the Journal)
From the journal… Had a conversation this morning about the need for places of ‘being’ these days…Places of hope, where that can be found or expressed for the good of a larger whole. Otherwise, places to simply lay down the burden carried, the concerns, the anger…And what to offer so that the Centre might be…