Just the Right Words

Just the Right Words 

My poem, "Just the Right Words" was written when I was learning about poetry-writing as a spiritual practice while I was studying Spiritual Direction at The Haden Institute. It's rough around the edges and is evidence that I'm not a poet . . . exactly what's born from self-inquiry and self-expression.

***Proceed with caution if the f-word offends you.

I will never set out to offend you on purpose. AND it's important to me that what I share with you sets the tone of Clary & Sage Soul-Tending Apothecary: the fullness of our human experience is welcome here . . . humanity in the round.

Just the Right Words

by Rebecca Jackson-Aydelette

Strolling along the cobbled streets

Where the Pied Piper once led

The children and maidens of Hamelin town

To the river Weser, wide and deep,

I set my eyes on just the right words

In a shop otherwise warm and fuzzy.

Not the right words for just any affair,

No, these are for times when no others will do.

I handed the shop keeper a one Euro coin,

And tucked the words safely into my satchel.

She caught my eye and gave me a nod

I knew then and there, these words were good.

The tour continued with boundless adventures 

And for days, I thought nothing

Of just the right words.

But late in the night, and back on the bus

We found two of our group had been lost in the sea

Of four thousand people who'd just been set free 

At the end of the Play in Oberammergau.

People are harsh;

And this bus was not safe 

for two pilgrims who'd turned left 

When they should have turned right.

"Leave them! Leave them! I have to pee!"

"I was here on time why weren't they?"

"They're a burden to us, let's not stay."

Cruel words shouted by some at the back of the bus.

I listened in horror. What if it had been me?

Where was the love? And what about compassion?

Who were these people

That came all this way to witness the Passion?

Then I thought to myself, I have just the right words.

No need to share them, no need to shout.

No need to scurry to drag them out.

I shook my head and patted my bag.

Our travels continued, our lost ones were found.

And there were more days I thought nothing

Of just the right words.

Peopling is tough at the end of a trip.

Airports are jammed

And tensions are high;

Hurry up and wait is the plan of the day.

I had hours to mosey from check-in to gate.

Dodging luggage and children and puppies on leashes,

I sipped on a coffee and wandered through shops.

I meandered my way to D-29.

It wasn't until I'd shed my bag,

That I noticed a smooth, baritone voice

And I thought for a moment, this is really quite nice.

I can sit for a while and enjoy myself.

Then I heard the words coming from this mouth

And I knew in an instant

Things were going to go south;

Nothing more than twaddle was spilling from these lips.

I looked to his left and I looked to his right.

His pack was dazed

And their eyes were glazed.

I could escape but they couldn't be saved.

Then I thought to myself, I have just the right words.

No need to share them, no need to shout.

No need to scurry to drag them out

I smirked to myself and patted my bag.

Two days home, my laundry is done.

I'm ready to pack and be with my people.

It's been six months and I've missed them each day. 

I cannot wait to be on my way.

Jet lag has gripped me

And I feel so tired.

My chest is heavy

And something's not right.

I swab my nose and twenty minutes later

Realize I won't be hugging my people.

Covid, it sucks; it's taken so much

Not just from me, but from us all.

It's been several days and my mind keeps returning,

With a smirk on my face,

To just the right words.

I've set up my space to see my people online.

I'll be in my box; they'll be at Kanuga.

But make no mistake, I have just the right words

For Covid, who has, once again struck:

"Fuck you very much."