Invited
Are you
inviting me? I want to come.
On a hard wooden pew, she twirled her white eyelet dress,
And clicked the buckled, white patent leather shoes.
She pined for Jesus, requested bread and wine.
Adults scold, "You're too young for this party."
Are you inviting me? I want to come.
On her banana seat, she flew down the road making a party all her own.
Sparkled handlebar tassels blew in the wind.
She breezed to the shoreline to fish out cobalt ferry glass,
Battered and smoothed by Lake Michigan.
Are you inviting me? I want to come.
On her stomach, she rested under large tented pines.
Her eyes glued to clues in Nancy Drew mysteries.
A rolled up paper tied with string, a pencil, a blanket, and water to drink.
She rested from the thorns, thistles, and prickles inside.
Are you inviting me? I want to come.
Huddled friends promised not to laugh,
If she sang aloud.
As that Carpenters' record spun
They snickered at her voice
Are you inviting me? I want to come.
She emptied her purse, gave everything,
Lavished Jesus with all she had,
Gave parties, honored friends,
Aching for love
Are you inviting me? I want to come
The shoreline rippled a beckon, deeper than thorns, thistles, and prickles,
A harboring, well within.
Come sit with me.
Bring nothing.
Jennifer Oosterhouse 2014
The perfect Storm
I am stripped of the Clothes of worldly fashion
My bootstraps were stretched and fell to the floor
He was publicly stripped separated from community
Bricks flew from the hand of foes residing in friends
Mocking dignity twisted a vine that was dead
The Proper stomped their processional march
I scourged and I slashed Him till He was not recognized
Refusing the cup, I ungratefully heaped
He willing put out his hand and accepted the cup
His Ravishing Healing now tends the beautiful gate
Jennifer Oosterhouse 2013
I am stripped of the Clothes of worldly fashion
My bootstraps were stretched and fell to the floor
Along with everything false that I wore
He was publicly stripped separated from community
Denied by a friend
Can you hear the rooster crow?
The world was not His home
Bricks flew from the hand of foes residing in friends
On each one was written my name
Breakfast at Tiffany’s "Joie de Vivre" fell to the end of my nose
Mocking dignity twisted a vine that was dead
Protruding with grand prongs of thorn
The Thruster jabbed the hat on His head
streaming vitality smothered adorn
The Proper stomped their processional march
Wearing insensible high heeled shoes
They poked and they prodded my unsheathed body
With the intent of fixing the blues
I scourged and I slashed Him till He was not recognized
He willing walked to the place
Where He would lovely die
Refusing the cup, I ungratefully heaped
Punishment on my head
It poured down my body as dripping Shame
Attempting to cover my pain
He willing put out his hand and accepted the cup
Filled with my punishment
He clothed me with mercy and grace
His Ravishing Healing now tends the beautiful gate
Jennifer Oosterhouse 2013
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