Someone Took Her Place
by Wynne Huddleston
I visit a church to witness
my baby nephew’s christening.
Arriving early, I’m happy
to find a seat reserved for family,
until a lady with purple hair
approaches and loudly delcares
in disgrace, Well! SOMEBODY took
MY place, and stomps to the back.
Her shocking complaint had me painted
red, but a thought so wise came
into my head, I could not long contain it.
I held my smirk until after the preacher
bid visitors to stand. And as he asked
for announcements, I raised
my wee little hand, walked to the back
of the church and said, Sir, this lady complains
someone took her place, and I’d like
to answer her, please, for someone once took
my place. See that man hanging
on the cross? (I point to a painting of Christ).
He took my place, and yours
in that awful sacrifice, and I believe
He took hers, too, but if she really wants it
returned, I can ask if He’ll give it back!
I wrote this about a friend's experience while visiting a church recently.
I wrote this about a friend's experience while visiting a church recently.
ஜ۩۞۩ஜ
I was moved to write this a couple of years ago after an amazing concert by the Mississippi Elementary State Honor Choir which had over 150 fifth and sixth grade students, some who were my music students.
I was moved to write this a couple of years ago after an amazing concert by the Mississippi Elementary State Honor Choir which had over 150 fifth and sixth grade students, some who were my music students.
Chorus of Children's Voices
by Wynne Huddleston
Pitch, tenuous as a clarinet’s reed— still wet,
easily broken or split—vibrates in the wind.
Tone, diction, and emotion as one; cherubic
pure, virginal soprano. Melody floats
like a kite, to untested heights, held by a fragile
string. Tempo, like one flock of many
geese, flaps trusting wings. Then dissonant
harmonies darken the sky like gentle rain,
increasing, roaring thunder crescendos louder,
and louder, deafening! Until, at last…
blessed sun breaks through the darkness
with a climax of intense, permeating
light. The resolution reverberates in the silent
dark places of your soul like a bright golden bell
struck and silenced at once by a single hand.
ஜ۩۞۩ஜ
© Wynne Huddleston
Empty Margins Rekindled
by Wynne Huddleston
to ballpoint pens, typewriters to computers;
from paper to laptops, and now, from books
to e-readers. It’s wonderful! At the touch
of a finger you can open an e-book in the new
computerized, iPhone-sized reader. Who
wants to hold a thick, new book, and have to
hold it in both hands to press it open, caress
each page as you turn it, mark your place
with an old envelope or an emery board,
and smell the newness… then have to put it
away on the shelf next to your treasured
photos, keepsakes and trophies. Who
likes the feel of ink staining permanence
as it flows like blood from their veins? Who
wants to hold in their hand a freshly sharpened
number 2 pencil in order to write? Who
wants to drag it across a waiting, virgin
white page, and have to erase or mark through;
scribble rhymes in the margins, draw arrows
and circles for what to move where, and, oh, dear,
one wants to rekindle those days… do they?
check spelling with a real dictionary? Surely no
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