Sunday, July 12, 2020

The bell sounds, and then sounds again.


The bell sounds, and then sounds again. And through the tolling I hear a call for life, the call of the sacred. Then silence. I choose to give myself to the silence, to the sacred. On this day, be it my first day or my last, I give myself to life. 

-for those who went before-

James Lee Jobe/
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Be like a river, let yourself go downstream.


Be like a river, let yourself go downstream. Allow gravity to do the work. Somewhere down there is an ocean, just waiting for you to help keep it full. Go, friend. There is no need to bother explaining yourself. 

James Lee Jobe
17 April 2020
12 July 2020
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Saturday, July 11, 2020

We are surrounded by a tremendous wall of death.


We are surrounded by a tremendous wall of death. The stench reaches up into the sky, even the clouds retch. No one speaks of yesterday or of tomorrow. At night, the believers pray. In the morning, the gravedigger returns to work. We are surrounded by a tremendous wall of death. This wall has a name; COVID-19.

James Lee Jobe
11 July 2020
oktu

Your life is a boat


Your life is a boat, and where you sail is your own choice. The tide is coming in.

James Lee Jobe
16 Apr 2020
11 July 2020

Friday, July 10, 2020

The heartbeat of the earth, its breath, is steady all night.


The heartbeat of the earth, its breath, is steady all night. White clouds, lit by the moon. All is still, not a puff of breeze. And my own heartbeat and breath? Silence. Life, I am still here.

James Lee Jobe
15 Apr 2020
10 July 2020
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Poetry reading: Jobe reads William Blake



A little acorn becomes a fine, strong oak tree


A little acorn becomes a fine, strong oak tree, and there is love on every branch, on every leaf. And through the seasons of the year this love is reborn, over and again. 

James Lee Jobe
14 April 2020
10 July 2020
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Close your eyes. Empty sky.


Close your eyes. Empty sky. Now picture a hole in that sky where new dreams drip down. Like rain. Can you see it? Now picture everything that grows drinking these dreams. That’s love. Now picture your face all wet and smiling. That’s life.

James Lee Jobe
13 April 2020
08 July 2020
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Thursday, July 9, 2020

I did not make the axe, and I did not grow the tree


I did not make the axe, and I did not grow the tree, but with sweat and muscle I connected the two. Work and tool. Life and death. The work of living, the patterns of life.

James Lee Jobe 
13 Apr 2020
09 July 2020
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The television news never speaks of the health of the creatures in the forest or of the deeds of insects.


The television news never speaks of the health of the creatures in the forest or of the deeds of insects. The reporters do not give updates on the growth of the Spruce trees or the Douglas fir, and no one describes the sound the wind makes tree branches to the home audience. But the number of COVID-19 deaths? That is information that you cannot escape. Grief is our cloak as the wind blows.



08 July 2020
oktu

The bell sounds, and then sounds again.

The bell sounds, and then sounds again. And through the tolling I hear a call for life, the call of the sacred. Then silence. I choose to...