April 17th Offertory, Katy Comber

The Offering is a fellowship that was established as way to connect artists and share ideas. It's a great group. We meet every third

Friday at my place to talk about projects we are working on, creating, not creating, and life in general. So, taking on scouting people for the offertory seemed like a natural component to what we do as a fellowship. Offertory was one of the things that drew me to this church. I saw a body of believers who recognized art as essential to worship and who supported creativity and thought Yes! I have to live there! The only issue with the scouting is, though we have a ton of talent in this room, most of the creatives here cringe and practically melt into the floor at thought of delivering a presentation. I’m here to encourage you. When I spoke to Darin about this, and my uneasiness about presenting again so soon he mentioned that at his NYC church, the person in charge of offertory would share his poetry for months until people were comfortable enough to come up and share. I want to hear from others, from you… So, please, consider it. Okay. That was my plug, now here’s what I’ve been working on:

The poems I’m sharing today revolve around God as Author. As a kid, God as father was the God who loved at a safe distance, a God for whom I reached for the fig leaves because I was afraid that if he really knew me he would not love me, instead he always saw Potential Katy, the Katy I deemed lovable. It wasn't his fault, and with this association, I knew this God adopted and loved me, and that was so incredibly powerful, but I needed an association for God from whom I could understand unconditional Love. A God who would love me despite myself. A God who knew my true character: an awkward, rebellious, quirky, kind of twisted, haven't got a clue what I’m doing here, self. God as Author was an association I could understand. These are my pieces, Recovering from the Tempest and Writer's Block.

Recovering of the Tempest
"What's Past is Prologue"

By Katy Comber

you are my prologue
deemed unnecessary
in my novella
but scrutinized
by scholars in my epic

you are my prologue
pages that can be ripped
torn like the curtain
split from the ground up
words that made me be
plotted, charted, drafted
words before I could see [that]

you are my prologue

grains of salt before
specks of earth before
restored sight

soil within bellies of worms
before vineyards before
that last sip of wine

seeds planted before
future saplings before
the cross that made

all things restored,
after the Fall that dropped
the Earth and let her shatter
into pieces called World,

so that you could be
just a prologue written
in a story  
about grace

Writer’s Block

By Katy Comber

Sit to govern
a make believe world
but the keys don't clack
and the ideas don't click
and the space before me
remains white nothing

In the Beginning
There was the word
And the word was with God
And the word was God

Listen for the word
Listen for the BOOM
Listen.

Type whatever comes to mind:
Brussels Sprouts
Sonic the Hedgehog
White rabbit
Dishes. Augh. Cross that out.
Avoidance
Ah, ha ha! Yes. Keep going.
Pi, the number not the food, though blueberries will be in season soon. Wait, no. This is not right.

go, go back and

Listen…

Listen for the word

Listen for the BOOM

The word, the word, the word...
Got it.
Good. Now, let it go.