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Susan Cowger

Art & Poetry

Art Poetry

8. FAVORITE WORD

by Susan Cowger 5 Comments

In
grad school a writing professor asked each person
 in Wooden Woman’s class why they
wanted to write. 
Turns
out, this was a quiz,
and
included a write and wrong answer.
The
write answer: I enjoy playing with words.
The
wrong answer: I want to say something 
(i.e. communicate).



Wooden
Woman said SNORT.
And
yet, it is true.
Love
of words, the play of word meaning,
one
will not become a writer of distinction without it.
Wooden
Woman has been thinking about her Favorite Word.
She bets you are wondering 
what is your
favorite.
 


No, it’s not a quiz.
Yet
one condition:
For
a word to be favorite
 it has to be true,
favored in all conditions.


Math
people say it like this: 
Let epsilon be greater than zero.

Let epsilon be greater than zero, 
is a cue
that what follows will be proven true,
once and for all, beyond any doubt whatsoever.

Words have power like that.
The
math sentence is not Wooden Woman’s Favorite Word.
But
her word does something like epsilon.


Beauty, 
Fear 
and Delight, 
all invoke this word.

It is as insignificant and complex 
as a zero.
The Favorite Word is the essence of understanding,
the
bones of optimism;
the
word embeds itself in laughter 
and black sorrow.


It goes like this:
A woman has decided that prayer
is
not a list.

Prayer
is not a visit 
to the Ask Me counter.
Nor
standing 
at an Order Desk.
Sitting
on the ground of her mind,
to be alone in the presence of Almighty,
she
closes the door to rushing thoughts.

Shhhh, in the quiet 
she chooses words from
a basket 
called Giving Honor. 


The
woman sifts through the letters
and
easily finds the 
I.


PRESS
MY
FOREHEAD
TO
THE
GROUND

The words line up in front of her.  


So
she does. Literally.
Not
because it is her first inclination for honor giving,
she
does so because it is 

an act of honor.
What
does one say to God in a position like this?
Wooden
Woman thinks you might try it.


God
speaks to men audibly so seldom.

This woman did not hear an audible voice.
What
she heard was a kind of knowing.
Head to the floor, 
everything and nothing before Him,

she understood her Father to answer her words with:
PRESS
YOUR HEAD INTO MY PALM.
Ohhh.
*
That’s
all.
That’s
it.
Ohhh.

*

“We make men without
chests

 and expect from them virtue and enterprise. 
We laugh at honor 
and are
shocked to find traitors in our midst
.” 
–CS Lewis
  
  
*


  
    *
  

March 10, 2014 Blog

Previous Post: « 7. RUSSELL SCREAMED
Next Post: 9. SYNESTHESIA »

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. thefisherlady says

    March 27, 2014 at 1:10 am

    it is trusting… just rest in Him
    ~yes… it is good

    Reply
  2. Kathy says

    March 12, 2014 at 4:52 am

    This comment has been removed by the author.

    Reply
  3. S. Etole says

    March 11, 2014 at 2:42 am

    In His palm is written our name.

    Reply
  4. Brian Miller says

    March 11, 2014 at 2:06 am

    press your head in my palm…it is a posture of submission…

    i dont know that i can have a favorite word…

    Reply
  5. Craig and Bethany says

    March 11, 2014 at 12:51 am

    "…the bones of optimism… embedded in laughter and black sorrow."

    Yes, Truth traces this path. Woodem Woman's thoughts are so lyrical, like a spiral-graph tracing the truth.

    The last picture almost made me cry.

    Face to the palm. Love. This. Is. Love.

    Reply

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