Poetry, Prose, & Prayers
The writings of Shell Ridge
A HOUSE FOR OUR DREAMS
By Dori J. Somers
We, all of us, build houses for our dreams..
The masonry and lumber, glass and tiles,
A solid form, wherein we see our hopes,
A shelter and protection for our growth.
This house shall be a dwelling place
For courage, for integrity, for love
Engendered, nourished by a family
That speaks of "we" and means all humankind.
These walls shall represent the privacy
And dignity of individuals,
The open doors, a welcome to all people,
All ages, and all generations.
The windows shall keep light of inquiry
Illumining from outside and within.
May all words spoken here be born of love
And energy rekindle in the hearts
Of those who dreamed this house--
who plied the tools
And paid the price to actualize the dream.
May dreaming never cease for those within
Who know the world to be a troubled place,
But dare to struggle with imperfectness
Toward that brighter hope, that better day.
Let memories add warmth...a heritage,
A quilted patchwork stitched with history
Of kindliness, of daring for the good,
Of funny moments, jokes and smiles and tears.
This is a precious place, as every home
That shelters those who love and strive and share.
Its blessing is in lives that meet within...
In living, learning, caring, sheltered here.
The Student, by, Rev. Carlton, 2016
Born into the unknown
This leaf my only home
My floor is my sustenance and my roof another’s floor
I slide ever so slowly with the most sluggish of bodies
The leaf’s edges provide
Suspended above an incredible expanse—the wide world calling
The sky reaching out to me
An invitation to its wind blown space
Slowly I learn—slowly I grow—I strive
One step... one bite... one day at a time...
Thickness sets in as the days draw on
The nightly sky’s stars saying... come—come up off that stationary place
Tired, I rest. Dangling freely from a limb—suspended
I draw into a deep and eternal rest, as I look ever upward and outward
My body closing in
Warmth overcomes—a shell becomes me—a cocoon
And I rest from toil upon toil
Dreams of possibility flood my mind
Possibilities of new destinations—and liberations
Dreams of new worlds and strange shapes and bright hues
And one day I explode out of myself
The dreams becoming a reality
Widening appendages anchored I expand—ever-widening
I stretch further and more freely than before
Transformation becomes me
Jarred from a shell and on display for the world to see
I awake more colorful—more vibrant—more fully alive
Capable—I soar—wings beaming
And the sky keeps me
And the flowers keep me company
And the company of others warms me
For I am change and change changes everything
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast,but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogantor rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly,but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
Its noisy out there and in here.
Rounded glass rattling about, a few fallen.
Screens, light, touching... all so very touching.
Slide Up. Slide left.
Snapshots of a shadowed existence.
Pie slices warming scoops. Dripping.
To grace trail at dawn.
The thick fog etched miles from light.
Sounds within tapering.
Slowly, I stay.
Poetry, Prose, and Prayers
The written word of those who call Shell Ridge Church home.