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the stamp of uncertainty 3.17.21
by Martha Ward

My descent into the
circle of life,
of light,
of sound and
the movement of everything.

The severing of the cord
of safety, of surety.

The loss myself, no longer within.
Without.

My eyes smeared with an
unknown unguent.

My velvet skin washed of the only
clothing I had ever known.

With ink rolled on the
soles of my feet, and those
held just so against the
official document, I was marked
with the stamp of uncertainty,
and entered a world unknown.

“A truth which comes to us from outside always bears the stamp of uncertainty. We can believe only what appears to each one of us in our own hearts as truth.”
Rudolf Steiner

You Can Write Me Down in History
by Martha Koock Ward 1.6.21

When all was a crumble -decency,
democracy, derided by desecraters,
was I among you, while you witnessed,
horrified?

I had a choice, I chose well, for me,
to assemble with generations of my
family relations, to relive a tradition
of storytelling we know well.

This Epiphany offered two expressions of
the state of our State. One burst forth from
darkest fears and rage; Congress & Senators
present, nationwide viewers were shaken to the core.

The other was composed of our families’ children,
seen across a virtual stage. Angels, Shepherds,
carol singers, the audience from near and far,
our 81st annual trek, we followed the wandering star,
into this glorious night.

Four Jesuses in the mangers – one deep in Brazil;
another on the Texas Coast; the youngest babe
born is Seattle's latest boast, the oldest hales from
north of Big-D. Magi, three kings knelt before the
Jesus-babes, humbled by Innocents' mystery.

Yes, you may write me down as one who indulged
in love of family, during this indelible day in history.