Shawna Atteberry

The Baker Who Also Writes and Teaches

Friday Poetry: Pandora's Box

Pandora’s Box

A glance, a look
She walked across the room
Another glance, another look
At the box across the room.
It sat there
A gift from the gods
Never to be opened
Said those who lived above.
How could it offer
Such happiness and peace
When it was all shut up
And no one could see?
What gifts had the gods hidden
In that little box?
She nibbled a nail
She should not be thinking such thoughts.
A glance, a look
A step was taken
It was only one peek
And the world was shaken.

© 2004 by Shawna Renee Bound

Friday Poetry

“Mythic Memories”

I have mythic memories.
An arrow let loose.
A foe defeated.
I remember seeing things I can’t see now.
I remember my senses heightened and much more attune.
I remember my heart sending powerful blood rushing through my veins as I tracked and could sense the presence of the enemy.
A warrior born out of time.

I have mythic memories.
Rose petals in water.
Flickering candlelight and rose-scented water.
Hair cascading down my back.
Silk falling off my shoulder, pearls around my throat.
I remember midnight breezes in moonlit gardens.
I remember nymphs dancing in streams and the feeling of grass and moss under my back.

In the place between sleeping and dreaming I remember.
I remember being
A warrior and a lady.
A fighter and a lover.
Strong and beautiful.
I remember a graceful strength I used wisely.
I remember when I held a tenuous balance with elegant poise between the worlds of love and war.

© 2004 Shawna Renee Bound

Poetry: I Want These Things Written on My Body

Today seems like a good day for a poem. I hope you enjoy it.

“I want these things written on my body. We are the real countries.” –Katherine Clifford, The English Patient.

“I Want These Things Written on My Body”

Rolling curves, peaks and hills
Valleys, dips, rivers and seas
We are the real countries.
Curve of abdomen, peak of breast
Dip of waist, seas pooled in eyes
I am a country.
I want these things written on my body:
My love, my passion
That must protect those beloved.
My fear, my anger
Slow erosions of my soul.
Legend and myth well up from within
Artesian springs from imagination.
Life giving power pulsing deep within
A cave of great mystery, the womb.
I want these things written on my body:
That I loved and laughed,
But I also mourned and wept.
My anger led me to hate,
But grace led me to forgive.
That I longed for one to share my life with,
But I found contentment in solitude.
That although my womb would never conceive,
I brought forth and protected life.
Wave of hair, paths of the mind
Plain of the back, roll of the hip
I am a country.
Plains, plateaus and waterfalls
Rocky ledges, cliffs and springs
We are the real countries.

© 2005 Shawna Renee Bound

A Meditation

Prophecies

The young woman from Palestine was emphatic
“Prophecy is not for sale!” She wasn’t referring
to the cheapness some now pass off as prophecy,
the predictions of rapture and hellfire to come
that some embrace for solid ground in these
quick sands of time.

No, it was with the breath
of Miriam and Deborah, Isaiah and Amos that
she breathed, remembering those whose prophecies
stood not as a foretelling but a forthtelling—
speaking forth the truth about what was happening NOW,
telling out the tales that others wanted to ignore.

I doubt these prophets ever passed the hat
because what they said wasn’t often popular, and
more than one risked death because they
refused to sell their prophecies, refused to
shape them into something that could more easily
fit their listeners’ ears

The young woman who has seen the rivers of blood
in her homeland has also heard the breath of Christians
at the door who believe that these are the days
of prophecies being fulfilled. Casting their lots
in the Holy Land, they gamble for the cloak of rapture
while the holy ones die all around them.

She just reminded me of you Hildegard, that’s all.
Prophecies and visions.
The real ones don’t often make you rich.

Jan L. Richardson, Sacred Journeys: A Woman’s Book of Daily Prayer, pp. 364-5.