9/11 Memorial

September 16, 2001, Seattle, Washington

No shining wild shout of water that splatters
last month where we played on warm pavement stones
our Memorial fountain along with the mourners
weeps softly with hushed and reverent tones.
With flute’s sad hollow and haunting refrain
shuffling feet and murmuring strangers,
young fathers embracing their small sons, explain
fireman and flags and with soft careful nurture.
As family we gather broken and quiet
with flowers and flowers and flowers came we
thousands in number press close in our spirit
to share in our sorrow and take comfort in Thee.

Ore the nation they gathered, through miles of dark night
came together unbeckoned. with soft candlelight.

Leeann Andrade-Kelley

Alfareria de Doña Rosa
San Bartolo, Oaxaca
19 Febrero 2004

The Potter said it was the clay
that made it black
but it was He that gave
it the grace.

it was the stone
held in His hand
that made it
shine.

Only the potter knows
how much stress
how much scraping
how much rubbing
and how much fire

makes it worthy.

There were many pieces in the patio
where his students sold their wares
but we sought the ones that bore His name.

Those alone we bought.

Leeann Andrade-Kelley

What I remember of my pain

May the mercy of God
Fall down on me
In my day to day
In the practical
In the mundane.

May the presence of God
Occupy
My lonely hours
In my heart
In my mind.

May the love of God
Surround me
With its sweetness
I will breathe it
I will touch it.

And in that future day,
When the pain can’t
Hurt me
I shall remember
That He was there
And it was sweet.

Leeann Andrade-Kelley

from my car somewhere between Snohomish and Carnation

Generations of Joy
September 23

The webs, the dew, the sun!
Countless sparkling jewels.

Such a sight, though
I had see it many times
before we moved to town, yet
there it was again
on hwy 2 halfway to Carnation
demanding my attention. Still
I remained safely in my car
obediently between the lines.

A soft gasp, a sweet aching
a tender longing,
the moment flashed like a lifetime
and I drove on.

Twenty years ago it was not
fir trees by the highway
it was scotchbroom
along a rural road.

Today I am driving to see
a little freckled boy
and a smaller girl who meows
and purrs like a cat.

Back then I could stop the car
and tramp through the wet grass
with their mother and her brothers.
We could draw our faces close
and together
we could marvel at
the grace, the shimmer, the design.

Just one heartbeat of regret,
--by the time I reach them
the sun will have burned
away the dew.
But their mother must make
her own revelries
and beauty will not be lost to them.



Leeann Andrade-Kelley
September 23, 2002