Janet Benlien Reeves

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A Poem-a-Day for April: My After-Action Review

I’ve silently participated in Writer’s Digest ’s poem-a-day challenges since November 2022. The magazine's online version holds these challenges twice a year, in April and November. Depending on life circumstances, I have approached these challenges either with diligence to write every day or hit or miss, doing my best. But this April, I decided to participate publicly for the first time. Each day, I posted my prompted poem in the comments on Writer’s Digest ’s website and on my Facebook page . I quickly discovered that doing this dramatically changed the experience. First and most obviously, I found myself interacting with people. Other participants made comments and suggestions about my work; they cheered me on. I did the same for them, though I did more “liking” than commenting. Overall, the environment among participants was encouraging and celebratory. It was fun. Second, I found myself challenged to produce final drafts. In silent seasons, I could challenge myself t...

Rainy Day

Rainy Day I stretch, toss Panda gently onto the wet grass, duck back under the eaves hoping my pup will do her business, meaning business, and come right back to me, so we can retreat to dry inside. Panda Girl doesn’t get it. Rather, she prances like the princess she is all the way across the yard, high-born head and flag tail regal both held high. She turns as if to summon me, What are you waiting for? “Panda, come,” I command. She tilts her head. No. You come, her stance manifests. She stays, tail wagging, sky leaking moisture all over her seven-pound self. Yesterday’s grass clippings cling to her black and white fur with leaves and other bits of yard debris. I sigh, start out with shoulders scrunched, head bowed to let my back take the brunt of today’s assault on earth. Panda sees and circles joyful, plants feet, barks, See! I told you! The water’s fine. I lift head, straighten shoulders, relax, and walk in the wonder: my rain-dancing dog’s right. * * * Photo by A A on Unsplash

Thoughts Coaxed through the Backdoor of My Mind

Is something wrong with me that I struggle to write about Christian holidays for Christian holidays? It seems expected; prompts and requests abound. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to respond on paper or screen. Every attempt comes out artificial, strained, or stale. Morsels with wondrous potential seem only half-baked, far from ready for reader savoring. I ponder faith deeply during these times, seek fresh insights, talk them over with God. That when Jesus died on the cross, in that moment, He took all the sins of the whole world committed through all time right into His God-man Self, became a vacuum ingesting all heinous evil ever, then somehow said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:24, NIV). In that moment, His moment of greatest weakness, He revealed God’s power supreme to the world. Or that Jesus’ death wasn’t to appease the out-of-control anger of a wrathful god, but to pay death’s demanded ransom. Our one, true God loves us all so m...

From Where I'm Sitting

Flames lick fake wood never burning— for now. Soon the sun will rise before I do, but not today. Today’s glorious sunrise show is hidden, however, by mists that roll over mountains, meld into Sound, hover over harbor contained in faint trace of land. Come out, Sunshine. Ingest dense moisture cover. Come out, Mountains. Reveal your dimensions, their grand cascade. I know you are there where I should see you from where I’m sitting. * * * Photo by Nick Bolton on Unsplash

Grief

Grief is the house left vacant once parents have moved out, moved on to their eternal home without you— for now Grief is the crib left vacant when life anticipated departs before taking breath, or soon after, taking yours with it Grief is the room left vacant when a child declares independence too young, rejecting all faith and family offered for launch Grief is the vacancy a for-sale sign can’t fill * * * I wrote this post for the Five-Minute Friday Link-Up. Click here to read other writers' posts on today's prompt: vacant . Photo by Tierra Mallorca on Unsplash

Time Redeemed

Historic downtown. A place of magic when one’s seeking unique. I went today to claim my father’s birthday gift, the one I noted six months ago while window shopping with my brother. A handcrafted ornament of Garry oak honoring Navy Seabees of which my dad was one. I parked blocks away to enjoy the walk, surprisingly lonely for 9:30 a.m. The district was ghost-town empty except for one Hawaiian-shirt clad man standing talking through a car’s open window to the married couple inside. He was asking for prayer for his wife beginning some new venture. They assured him they’d be praying. I prayed, too, having overheard the request. Serendipitous (and unintentional) eavesdropping. Perhaps I was meant to hear, add a covert fourth to their two or three gathered in His name. Reaching the entrance to the small indoor mall, a sign declared my intended destination open today. I entered the building, turned left. The sign on the shop’s door said, “Open! Come on in.” Door locked, lights out, no v...