Whisper

Climbing.

Blue sky above--

I grope for a hand-hold. 

No ropes. 

Deep well below--

Will this toil ever end?

I've been on the edge,

Peering through the abyss. 

The water's covered me

When my last strand broke. 

Keep me on the wall. 

Keep me in my path. 

Only from my labor, can I

Ever hear the birds again. 

K. Yerton

2003

The one I need to clarify....

I was just going to post the poem below without any kind of an introduction, but it suddenly occurred to me that it might need some background information. :)

First of all, let me clarify for anyone who is still confused after reading the poem: I. Am. Not. Pregnant.

Thank you. :)

Keep reading...

I wrote this poem at the end of a nine-month program that I was a part of a few years ago.  As the year was winding down, I was thinking back over the changes that had happened in mine and everyone else's lives during that time period, and it suddenly occurred to me how similar it was to the nine-month period of pregnancy.  So, I grabbed a pen and started scribbling; what came out of it is what you'll read below. This is the first time I have really shared this poem because I was unsure that others would appreciate the analogy.

That being said....

9 months

Unexpected--

Unplanned--

Accidental--

Then,

Nine months

Months of pain--

Months of sickness--

Weeks and days of sorrow

And exhaustion--

Feeding from us--

Growing in us--

This new life has

Consumed us for

Nine months. 

Now the urgency comes--

Push!--

Breathe!--

Work!--

It all comes down

To one final act. 

Do we run away,

Abandon this piece of us,

Or with pride

And resolve, 

Pick up the new life

And carry it into

Tomorrow?

5/2011

Dancing with imagination

The over-excitement with my finally found poetry notebook continues....So sorry if I'm boring you. =)


Creation

A sculptor at his block,
An artist with his brush--
A writer's scratching pen,
A farmer's tending hands--

Incarnation all around us--
Divinity, worshiped intrinsically,
Shines out of creation
Bringing me to my knees.

Oh! We are wonderfully made!
You, beautiful One, surround us,
Piercing through our world,
Dancing with imagination.

Only One of all creativity
Can deserve such adoration!
Designing, shaping, speaking--
Inspiration flows from Inspiration.

K. Yerton
03/2003

Happy, happy, joy, joy...

After several months of looking, I finally found the notebook of my poetry! I was nearing panic stage. =)

So, here is a poem I wrote on my Blackberry a few years ago, while sitting under a tree at a local park.


Burning

Like the leaves that carpet the autumn floor,
My sins have fallen before Your gaze--
Tangible proof of my death, piled in heaps--
Brown, orange, yellow--a blaze of imperfection.

Slowly, deliberately, You gather them together.
I turn from the sign, sickened by my guilt,
When I hear Your voice calling, calling--

A fire--blood-red, scorching--rises to the sky--
Your hands--scarred by the flames You gave,
Purposefully blotting out the record of my wrong--
Reach out to me from the smoke,
Welcoming me with Your embrace.

--K. Yerton
(11/2010)

Missing Muse

I'm sitting here tonight desperately wishing I could write something.  Have you ever been there?  The Muse has left the building, and you have no idea how to find her?  It's moments like this when I deeply miss college.  In the 8.5 years since I graduated, I have really missed being in an educational environment.  Something about being surrounded by learning and teachers brought out the creative side of me.  I rediscovered it a couple of years ago when I went through the MC program at my home church.  I was finally once again able to write poetry.  

I don't know what causes the block, but it is very evidently there.  Of course, when I first started writing, I typically only got poems when my emotions were high.  And I use the phrase "got poems" because that's truly the only way I can describe it.  If I try to think of something, my mind goes blank. Then, suddenly, I'll get a phrase, and the rest all comes in a rush.  I shocked my roommate Sarah one night by flying out of bed and demanding some paper.  She stood there sort of bemused while I scribbled for about 2 minutes; then, I handed her the notebook and saying, "I was afraid I'd forget it," I went back to bed.  She was amazed that the poem (Masquerade) was complete and didn't require any editing.  All I could say was that is how they always come to me: whole, finished.  

But, returning to my lack of inspiration...

Does this ever happen to any of you? You have an ability or gift that sometimes seems to go on vacation?  It's very frustrating to know that you have something inside of you that you don't know how to access. 

Here's one of my poems from my college days:

Fall

Clouds, lightly roasted,

Eager for little hands--

Bonfire nights--

Cider apples--

Two-eyed sheets, howling for candy--

Brightly-colored showers

Blanketing the yard--

Frosty, leering lanterns,

Grinning out at straw men--

Families, meeting, eating--

"We thank Thee for this bounty,"

Ringing over turkeys.

--K. Yerton

9 October 2002

Take 2....

I must be the world's worst blogger! haha Amazingly enough, I never feel as if I have anything to say--you would understand how hysterical that comment is if you've ever tried to get me to stop talking. One would imagine that between my natural tendency to logorrhea (look it up) and English Education degree my life would provide me with an overabundance of material to share with the world.  But, for some strange reason, when it comes down to writing something and posting, my mind blanks.

Ironically, the only other situation where I am consistently speechless is if I'm interested in a guy.  I am a well-educated, intelligent, loquacious woman until "he" walks through the door; suddenly, I'm Baby in Dirty Dancing: "I carried a watermelon..." Well, that was impressive! I'm just gonna go bang my head on that wall for a while.

Of course my lovely big sister Lora over at My Blessed Life has proven herself to be such a wonderful blogger that I wish I could keep up. haha  And even though that does not seem to be in the cards for me, I would like to maintain some sort of connection to the great blogosphere.

Thus, I will post when I post and cease feeling guilty about it as of today....

(I'll let you know how that goes.....) =)

For now, I'm going to leave you with another poem.

All Hope

The black fog is
Rolling in again--
Blotting out the
Sun and--with it--
All hope.

These days are like
Endless funerals--
All of my own
Dreams, plans, hopes--
All die.

Nothing can stand
In the onrushing
Sweep of this
Relentless sadness;
All pales.

Your face alone
Pierces through the flood
Of pain and doubt,
Bringing with it, light--
All light.

Help me through the
Suffocating clouds
To Your side, Your
Faithful love, and
All hope.

K. Yerton (2011)

Two Perspectives

My Rose

Many a time, I have looked for you
And seen only masks.
Many a summer, I have walked through
Fields and searched.
Even in spring, with the world abloom,
I didn't find my rose.

Tears come so easily in loneliness.
Pain comes with time.
A single heart cannot see its chance
To right the wrong.
I miss what I have never kissed,
What I have not held.

How long does a heart long for unattained
Desires and needs?
When does love reach its own end?
Times bring change
To many points and longings. Winds
Blow time by slowly.

--Kari Yerton
02/2000

_________________________________

Wallflower

So much time--
Wasted.
So much effort--
Gone.
So many days--
Lost.

How long have I
Been looking--
Searching--
Hoping--
For that perfect fit?
My other half?

You stand in the Corner--
Watching,
Calling,
Trying to catch
My eye.

The author of this
Hole,
You know,
You hold
The answer--
My heart's need.

--Kari Yerton
02/2011

What can I say? 11 years make a big difference!

Blood Toll

Always near me,

Waiting patiently,

You watch with

Pained eyes as

I wander on,

Never looking back,

Never noticing.

Your very blood paved

The road on which

I travel;

Your life paid

My toll.

Yet I stumble along--

In boots muddy

From my sin and

Carelessness.

Cursing You for the cracks

And ruts my

Own feet have

Created.

--Kari Yerton

09/21/2010

My So-Called Single Life

I purposely avoided posting anything on Facebook or Twitter--or here--yesterday. I didn't want to add my voice to the clamor of Valentine's Day posts. After all, there are few positive response options available to me as a single, Christian adult.

• There's the Boycott: "Singles Awareness Day" (Come on! Do you really want to call it S.A.D.? That's just pathetic.)
• Or we have Substitution: "Jesus is my valentine." (Right. No one's buying that.)
• Denial is also popular: "Just waiting on God's timing." (Yes, but you're still just waiting.)
• And of course, there's always the standby Act-Like-Nothing's-Happening: "Beautiful weather!" "Oh, look, a puppy!" "There sure are a lot of people in Wal-Mart today." (Need I say how obvious that one is?)

So, I opted out. {Now, I did celebrate...with my family. I got (and gave) cards, chocolate--even a cute balloon. And then, I babysat so my parents and my sister and brother-in-law could go on dates.} But, after watching the multitude of posts and comments ranging from the nauseatingly sentimental to the painfully bitter, I decided I would give you my true thoughts and feelings on single adulthood. (And, I do mean adulthood; if you are still under the age of 21, you have no idea what true singleness is.)

Thus, here you have the true account of how I, Kari Renee Yerton, age 30, single, Christian adult feel about being single.

1. I HATE IT!
2. I LOVE IT!
3. My whole life is spent somewhere between these two extremes.

There, I said it. That is the whole, ugly secret. How I feel about my place in life changes daily, minute by minute:

• I love being able to make decisions without needing to consult someone else.
• I detest going to bed alone each night.
• I enjoy having my own space and alone time.
• I hate eating in restaurants by myself.

And so it goes...Each day, I will have moments of "Thank God, I'm single," and "This stinks!" If I want Mexican food, I eat Mexican food. If I want to go on a road trip, off I go. But, no matter how deeply I may long for someone to eat with or talk to as I drive, I can't make that happen.

This is where I feel the Church has failed its single adults. We're taught how to be in relationships, how to choose a partner, how to parent our children; but no one tells us how to be single. We're given pat lines of "Let Jesus fill that space in you," and "You have to be whole in Him before you can offer yourself to someone else." Well, that's just awesome, but what does it mean?

We are relational beings, created in the image of a God who is in constant triune companionship. The only time God said "Oops!" during creation was when he saw man was alone. And yet, I am made to feel guilty or less of a Christian for longing for and dreaming of that companionship. My newsflash is this: I'm not needy. I'm not desperate. I'm not lacking in faith. I AM HUMAN.

My humanity cries for companionship. My humanity craves physical touch. My humanity desires emotional connection. And it is my humanity that is being overlooked and ignored.

So, how do we balance our human needs with our spiritual life?

In my opinion, my don't have to "balance" them. They are both intrinsic parts of our makeup. God has made us to need one just as much as the other. The problem arises when we focus on one to the exclusion of the other. Christians and non-Christians alike make this mistake. One side tries to build spirituality without humanity, and the other focuses on humanity without spirituality. To be healthy, we must build both sides of ourselves. Here, we strike a conundrum.

I'll follow up on this thought a little more later, but for now, just be thinking about how you/we/I have been taught to ignore or downplay our human side because it's not "spiritual" enough. My reminder to you is that Jesus' favorite name for himself was "Son of Man." I think that would be significant.

--Kari

Question

Sometimes I wonder if I am invisible.
Can you hear me? Am I real?
Is it possible I live only in me?
Maybe this is all in my imagination.
Maybe this is all a dream.

How do you know what is life?
How do you see? How do you learn?
When does the real become life lived?
How does the dream find reality?
Who can teach the skeptic to love?

Why does love always evade?
When is it real? Who does it touch?
Why can I not grasp the cord and live?
How could I drop out so easily?
Why does no one catch me before I fall?

Sometimes I wonder if I am invisible.

--Kari Yerton
09/1999

First Snow

The first snow always
Makes me homesick.
Homesick--not for home and family,
But for six and my new, blue sled.
Bright blue it was--
And weren't we a pair?
Me, in my red snowsuit,
You, in your brown coveralls--
Looking very pastorly
Sliding down the hill
In your gold sock hat.
The hat that matched the sled--
The hat that always found its way
To our lop-sided snowmen--
The hat that you're always wearing
When I remember that day--
The day we sledded--
Behind the church,
Beneath the highway,
For the last time in Ohio.

--Kari Yerton
12/2003


(My niece and nephew with my old sled)

Masquerade

Bow

Spin

Turn

One by one,

We take our places,

Twirling and bending,

Dancing around the room,

Safe behind our masks.

Dip

Reach

Step

Midnight approaches.

Slowly, we weave

Across the floor,

Moving toward discovery,

Toward You.

Stand

Sway

Twirl

Maskless,

You enter the floor,

We stare at Your beauty.

The chimes ring:

One---

Bow

--Kari Yerton

10/30/2010