Rising. Jane Beal

      “ . . . As West and East in all flat maps (and I am one) are one,so death doth touch the resurrection.”

      —John Donne, from “Hymne to God, my God, in my Sicknesse”

      Acknowledgments

      Thanks to editors Anthony Battaglia, et al., “Map Reading” appears in The Flyover Country Review (Spring 2014); thanks to professor and editor Dr. Hardy Jones, the five poem series called “Dreams of Ga-lun-la-ti” appears in The Oklahoma Review (Spring 2013).

      Thanks to editor Nikia Cheney, “Song of Sojourner Truth” appears in the anthology, Verse/Chorus: A Call and Response Anthology (Grand Terrace, CA: Orange Monkey Press, 2014); “Emily Inverted” first appeared on Robert Lee Brewer’s blog, Poetic Asides, was later printed in my poetry collection, Made in the Image (Lulu Press, 2009), and again appeared, thanks to editor Dr. Pradeep Chaswal, in The Muse: An International Journal of Poetry (2013); “Stitching” appears in my poetry collection, The Roots of Apples (Lulu Press, 2012).

      Thanks to editor Jo Swinney, “God’s Light” appears in the anthology, Closer to God (Scripture Union Press, 2013); “The Beginning of Spring,” “A Dove Fluttered Down,” and “Great White Egret” appear on my blog, Birdwatcher’s Diary (birdwatchersdiary.wordpress.com); I have recorded “Beginning of Spring” and “Great White Egret” as Mp3s in The Jazz Bird project available at http://soundcloud.com/jane-beal; “Great White Egret” also appears in my Spiritual Aviary for the Year (Green Wall Press, 2014).

      Thanks to the editors, “Saxophone in F” appears in shufPoetry (Spring 2013); thanks to editors Jan Tritten and Nancy Halseide, “Welcoming an Inuit Child” appears in Midwifery Today (Summer 2013); thanks to editor John Han, “A Benedictine Nun Makes a Mosaic” appears in Integrité: A Faith and Learning Journal (Fall 2013); it is also read aloud near the end of my sermon, “The Morning Star Rises in Your Hearts,” available online at http://sanctuarypoet.net/LINKS; “Vallejo” first appeared as a voice recording on my CD/Mp3 collection, “Songs from the Secret Life,” but it first appeared in print in Pudding Magazine (Spring 2014), the themed issue on urban experience, thanks to editor Connie Everett; thanks to editor Peter C. Leverich, “Blessing the Marmot in the Morning” appears in Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poems (Winter 2013).

      Thanks to editor Brianna van Dyke, “Filia Magistri in the Midwest” appears in Ruminate (Winter 2010) under the title “My friend Franklin is a theologian” and in my poetry collection, Butterflies; thanks to editor Susan Troy, “Descending into Love” appears in International Doula (September 2014); thanks to editor Lori M. Cameron, “Secret Guitar” appears in The Penwood Review (Fall 2013); thanks to editor John Han, “Life in Winter” appears in Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal.

      I am thankful that I had the unexpected opportunity to teach the introductory survey to American literature at Colorado Christian University, which enabled me to work closely with the writers that inspired many poems in this collection, and to my students in that class.

      I am thankful for my life-long friend Stacey, my goddaughters Reina, Reneé, and Sage Elizabeth, the Kerns and Daruna-Colón families, Franklin Harkins and especially Gary for their inspiration of specific poems in this collection. I am thankful to my mother and step-father for their support during the completion of this book and to my brother, saxophonist and composer, Andrew Beal, for his work on the musical version of “Great White Egret,” which honors the memory of my friend, Jennifer Eve Franet. I am forever thankful to my Savior and Redeemer, Jesus, who makes all things possible. Solo Dei Gloria.

MAPS OF BEGINNING —

      LEGEND

      I touch the map on the table gently,

      curious about what it means,

      trying to decipher the square-boxed legend

      in its corner that should tell me how to read,

      but the symbols are obscure code,

      and the language seems foreign

      like something I learned in childhood

      but forgot.

      Now my translating skills are as rusty

      as a tin watering-can left out too long

      in rainy weather

      in a garden that was over-grown

      —where roses, over-blown, twisted

      through ivy covering gray stone—

      and the mystery of the unreadable map

      pains me as I look out the window

      where the sunlight is nevertheless still shining

      bright—and very clear.

      MAP READING

      I hold up the map.

      I can’t understand it—

      its red lines and blue lines

      like arteries and veins

      of a mysterious body

      about

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