This blog contains responses to blog prompts, & thoughts on spiritual or religious themes |
Jamál (Beauty), 16 ‘Alá’ (Loftiness) 175 B.E. - Sunday, March 17, 2019
PROMPT: March 17th Happy St. Patty’s Day!! Today, we’ll do something a little different. In your entry today, choose at least TWO of following prompts and let your creativity glow! 1. Share a story of a time you were especially lucky. 2. Have you ever had a “lucky break”? 3. Include ten green things in your entry (and color them with green font) 4. Finish the sentence: “I am lucky because...” 5. Write your entry inspired by the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Iz Kamakawiwo'ole. I am lucky because I am alive! I suspect this incident cay cover three of the items on the list: 1. Share a story of a time you were especially lucky. 2. Have you ever had a “lucky break”? and 4. Finish the sentence: “I am lucky because...” As the title suggests, I am lucky to be alive. When I was a child, I played a game of "Hide And Seek" at my cousins farm. There was an old Frigidaire setting on the back porch. I crawled in and let the door shut behind me (if the door were open my cousins could have found me). I went to sleep, and sometime later my Grandpa Frank took me out of the refrigerator. He never old Mom about it; she learned about it several decades latter when I told her about it. I wrote the following poem about this incident a few years ago. "One thousand... Two thousand... Three thousand..." Charlett's voice followed me, as I crept up the wooden steps and slipped onto the faded gray porch. Its back against the side of the house, the white Frigidaire beckoned, its silver handle reflecting the light from a hundred watt bulb. Opening the Frigidaire, I crawled in and let the door close. Curled u p, like a child in its mother's womb, I waited for Charlett to find me. Counting the seconds with each breath I took, one thousand... two thousand... three thousand... I surrendered to the scent of sealed metal and the sound of my own heart. Light flooded the darkness waking me up. Framed by the Frigidaire's open mow, my Grandfather stood his arms reaching out to me. Somewhere over the Rainbow Somewhere over the a green flies scattering emerald leprechaun magic across fields of chartreuse clover and sage. Somewhere over the unicorns live grazing in grass or sleeping beneath pine and olive trees. Somewhere over the my muse wanders looking for blue-green oceans of inspiration, hungry for wild spinach and pea salad. |