Mentor Me, Margaret

Inspired by sitting next to the woman who facilitates the writer's group twice monthly. At this Sunday's Service

Pure of pitch
True in tone

During eight brief decades
Her gifts she’s honed

Alight in the pew
Beside her, enraptured

I hear hymns of honey
Her sweet voice has captured

Teach me, Ms. Margaret,
I pray, to sing clearly

Show me the path
You cleave to so dearly

Is it your faith
That all will be well

Gives the tilt to your chin?
And a stride that won’t tell

The insults and injuries
Life surely has dealt you?

What is your magic
Please, tell me true

Such dignity beams from your
Form and your countenance

Clearly, you are a woman
Of substance

Mentor me, Margaret
I’m searching for meaning

Beyond daily maintenance
‘though I shan’t be demeaning

I want something more
That I can hold on to

Something at core
As burnished as this pew

Is your strength born of pain
Or having to tussle

With challenges that have
Given you muscles

To bear with equanimity
Each and every adversity?

You show hospitality;
Welcome diversity

God grant that I reach
More decades than these

Numbering closer to seven
Than six, if you please

Would that my voice
Become a bit bolder

Like yours, dear Margaret
As I too become older

May I also exude warmth,
Eyes a-twinkle with light

To inspire as you do
Courage and calm despite

The slings and arrows
Of outrageous fortune

I’ll have what she’s having
May I now name that tune?

Thank you, dear Margaret
For forging a path

That speaks to my heart,
That knows no wrath

Sing with me, dance with me
Bring me along

No cold pedestals,
In soft hearts you belong