When Becoming

Inside the self where
All the thrust resides and builds
As hunger occurs
There hide those sweet, warm pleasures;
The keeping of life throughout.
Creativity we each
Stand sometimes alone,
But loneliness is a free
Boundary designed to transcend.
Heaven’s gates not far
From we who contemplate soft
Sounds of quiet taste
Recommending love every
Cell can fully share abroad.
We do not succumb
To the devices some others
Place before our face
We react as freedom’s agents
Giving of the things needed
That all everyone
Has to accomplish aided
Each along varied paths
Reaching together we come
Into the lightened place
Where dreams are made our full truth
And love nurtures us.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Monday, May 25, 2020

Notes in Line O5/22/20

The face you can see
Is an open window to
The heart, mind, and soul,
But when you turn, walk away,
You block out the light of day.


Maybe I cannot
Walk today because of pain,
But if I must crawl
To come beside, with, you here
It will be small price to pay.


No one loves me, you,
As does the Savior who gave
Up Heaven for us,
Giving His life, sacrifice,
To buy us eternity.


What seems so simple
Is the love finally found
Within friendship bound.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sometimes I have things leftover in my journal that for some reason I did not share. These are some of those.


Nothing here, notice,
No heart, breaking for others
Do not believe
In the magic of what we
Evidently understand.
These mountains
We have climbed higher,
Than we need, want, wish,
To ever onward go, on,
The stars light our eyes,
We cannot blink, weep,
Because it might disappear,
Caught on the mighty whirlwind
That seeks only, destruction,
But finds us invulnerable.
We souled out, brought
In intense emotional warfare
Showing our weakness, stronger
Again, than even ever before.
As capable wings above
Those toppings we struggled
Nests, homes, defended like
Fortresses soldiered with courage,
We became us, and more
We believed creation carried in it
To share; for LOVE,
We knew it bigger,
Unscripted, available anywhere.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan


Unspecific Thoughts*

There are days when writing feels like the first day in a new school, dressed in homemade clothes, and being beaten up when we arrived at the bus stop. It is not easy to walk into the big crowded room and have a tallish stranger direct us to a seat, sometimes with the warmth of a December snowfall.

We take out our notebook, the same one we used two years running already, but the paper is new, even if our Moms tell us that we should more often erase instead of beginning new pages. Some of the kids make signs at us like we are monkeys at the zoo, and others just smirk and focus on their desks.

We settle in to learn, knowing it is why we must be humiliated like this again and again.

Ah, forward, today we approach the page, and we grovel humbly seeking a word, subject, name, anything to give us a start. We know we can do it because we have written countless times before, but nerves may set in reminding us, no one has to like it. We try to smile, it does not matter, but who does not love adulation? Do not all of us want our spot in the bright lights with waves of applause?

Maybe we dart outside the lines and try to go out of bounds, to preserve the effort, to stop the clock. The clock that often yells, “Time is running down. Will we busy ourselves figuring out all the things we must?” New methods, forms, addresses, compatriots, styles, genres, and we are so overwhelmed, the words hide in the mental caverns and will not show up.

Today, we would skip, paint, cook, vacuum, scrub tile, anything to avoid writing because even when we leave it, running away, the work is us. We cannot divorce ourselves because we were born to it. It is as real as our birthday and will follow us to the moment of death. Writing is inside, outside, besides, over, under, around, everywhere, everyone, how, what, when, who, where, if, but, and by now, it should be known, writing never lets us go. It may be unwilling to care for us, but it is inevitable, we shall care for it, and there will be no escape.

Celebrate, celebrate those lines we drew out of the well, ones we harnessed that they mean our meaning and present our thought. It is hard, words are obscure, can be obnoxious in their games of hide-&-seek. Every line, sentence, is a victory, a hard-fought battle won.

Never Give Up! Allow no gags around our thoughts. Never drown our heads in buckets of apathy. Show up, dig deep, overcome obstacles, persist, because the world needs the words of the thinkers, poets, novelists, biographers, memoirists, journalists, artists, those who are attentive beyond the surface and dance with the indivisible invisible. Conscious thought is in high demand throughout the world, in our land. We must be courageous and keep going even when our hearts become frosted with feelings of cold. Light the fire and go, go, be the ones who experience, hear, know, see, and stand forever for freedom for even the least. Lift love a banner of work, over every land, and all peoples. Be a voice, authentic and meaningful, in this and all times.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

20170214_Lady with Cancer Tattoo_Pastels


Today may not be
What we dreamed of,
We are together in
Whatever it proves to
And we can wait to see.
Hands reaching across
Time through space’s
To begin a blaze
Lighting up eternity.
We are the brightness of
Nobody guesses
All the future entails,
Until confronted
By positives, negatives,
Appearing choices
Before their minds.
The clouds seem much less
After flowing by, leaving clarity,
Our shoulders straighten
Once we overcome obstacles
We never believed
No one knows us like
They think, cause each of us
Is becoming who
We have never been
The future welcomes us, more.
If we are presently, here,
Discouraged in our tedium,
We must hold on, remember,
Tomorrow, it is just a breath
Encompassing everything
We may hope to be.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Stick around, there is definitely more.