Here is my consideration of a brief poem of waiting in a hospital emergency room.


by Peter Menkin (2000)



Here is my consideration

of a brief poem of waiting

in a hospital emergency room.



The man from the Veteran's Hospital

was late, and the baby cried happily.

Two children wore the doctor's bandages

in the waiting room. Earlier at evening tide

there was a quiet conference in the

education center. The man who tip toes

through the tulips was pulling his car to

the main door of Marin General when I

arrived. The beep, the bio feedback, the

numbers 106 over, 95 over, oxygen 96.



The heart is monitored by machines, the

ticking clock sweeps from the hours through

Evening Prayer, and the long explanation of

conversation with God in a description begins.



Our Father, who, art in Heaven where the Lord

lives. Hallowed is a joy to us in song and in the

majestry of golden walls. Be thy name, a mystery

unspeakable, a land and a place oh joy of hymn.



Thy kingdom, a tree where we abide and sing,

along the branches like those whose life is tended,

as the lily is beautiful so we are without anxiety in

your Kingdom where there is clothing that we neither



work nor labor and Come. Thy will, your will be done.



Me in thee and thee in me. On earth as it is in heaven,

the cherubim and the archangels sing a constant hymn

of song in worship and adoration in this holy spirit that

yours is. Give us this day, to begin and say this is the

day the lord has made, let us

be glad in it. our daily bread to eat as a manna from

heaven a promise of which we are not worthy, oh, I

have denied thee, and loved thee, for you are a rest

to me and a comfort. Forgive us as we ask this of you

in your grace of giving this question to us this evening

the hour turns towards nine o'clock and the doctor is

waiting the nurses are coming. I am thirsty, and listening

now in another room. As we forgive those who trespass



against, for this is a prayer against another, in the wrestling

that is our lives, in struggle and in toil, my heart beats,

breath and practice bio feedback.



Us, whom we think about. The us of the hospital, the patients,

the nurses, the paramedics who are in their blue uniforms.

Cool and so well waiting. Someone has died. I sense it,



for I practice discernment, Oh Lord of my life, my love in

testimony, I seek thee. Thou art here, where can I go from

thy presence. For thine is the kingdom, and the power.



I meditate upon this and contemplate the beep of the system,

the pressure on my arm, the woman with her husband, her

marriage in Christ, and the closeness of their concern in

love of waiting, the glory, oh, yes, thine is greater than the

cosmos of imagining. A creation beyond of goodness, a place

of beginning that is where the I am that I am for you have

come across me and the saints are living presences among



the waiting in the rooms curtained one from another. Forever

and ever. Amen. I ponder, I contemplate, I look for meditation,



the baby is a joy to everyone. Whose heart is this saint's? A

charity of visitation, a transfiguration of compassion, a



continuation



of a journey in prayer. The lady across the long room wants

me to say confession for her.

Yours sincerely.

 
 
 
Audio reading by poet of his work is here:

Advent to Christmas: Waiting
By Peter Menkin
December 13, 2009

How the season turns in the day, in the continued
And continuing holiday--for the birth
Of our Saviour. What to do, but wait on the Lord.
Awaken.

No tree yet, for Advent three is tomorrow
Sunday.
Tomorrow, a tree—but not real,
Facsimile, model green foot high
Christmas tree.

Reminder of the season,
Season of kindness, hope,
Thanks be to God.

A small sculpture in angles
This tree. Symbol of evergreen,
It is a pleasure to see you again.
Awaken.

Waiting for the newness in the winter,
In the dark as days turn more towards the light,
And the California cold with rain
Tells of the weatherman’s prediction:
Grey sky, clouds--let the brightness
Of the season with its cheer leave us
In joy and remembrance
As we think of others.

Let us remember the hope
The birth of Christ means,
Renewal and New Testament of
Gospel pleasures and comfort.

Tree, slim and modern of the 21st century
Likeness of the living reality, we know
Christ will come. Awaken.

Poem or prayer, this journey of Christmas,
This series of still words in the calm of the
Night
Brings serene knowledge of quiet
Expectation. Awaken.

Celebration in patience is the hallmark this
Year, in the cold late night awakening
Of the truth remarkable, the new Christmas,
Again, this time of the year, hallowed days
Of the expectant waiting on the Saviour

This is a work in progress.

Is it a spirit that "quenches" or is it "quenching." Quenching is probably right...

The ending of this poem says, "Quenches." The grace of God quenches the spirit, bringing peace is the thought I wish to communicate. Yet I think the right word is "Quenching", according to those who have read the poem. The grace of God is quenching my spirit for its thirst and its jangle of thoughts and busyness. Here is the poem, some words about contemplation, and even at times, meditation.

Waiting on the Spirit
by Peter Menkin -- Jun 3, 2002

Inner life aware of soothing Spirit.
Waiting.
Grace that underlines
living.
Ask for waters
that spring from abundance.
Quenches.