Hieropraxis T.S. Eliot Poetry Award to Donna Frisinger
| June 8, 2011 | Posted by admin under 2011 Winners |
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The Hieropraxis
T.S. Eliot Award
for 2nd Place
Goes to
Donna Austgen-Frisinger
Rochester, IN
(Poetry Category)
Bio
Like her childhood hero, Peter Pan, who never wanted to grow up, Donna Austgen-Frisinger has determined to carry a little fairy dust with her at all times as a constant reminder to view life through a child’s eyes. Today, as a mid-career freelancer who still believes she can fly (via her retro-look Schwinn bicycle, complete with handlebar streamers and ringing bell), her life experiences — as a band director’s wife of forty years, school teacher, performing arts director, dance team coach, Christian bookstore clerk, music minister/evangelist with the International Church of the Foursquare Gospel, and mentor to thousands of kids — all serve her well in her writing career, as she uses her God-given talents to script fresh tales of His Kingdom through creative prose and poetry for both children and adults.
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Important Copyright Information
BULLETS FOR A HOMETOWN HERO
by Donna Austgen-Frisinger
All Rights Reserved
War and its horrors
are nothing more than a
blip on the nightly news. Another
R-Rated movie on the silver screen, until
personal loss translates its reality into your
own living room. The fictitious security of buttered
popcorn, diet coke, and the TV remote suddenly crashes
to the floor when that detached picture show is
interrupted by the doorbell: “I’m sorry to
inform you that your husband, daddy,
lover, best friend has been killed
in the line of duty.
That’s it. Gone are
cuddles, kisses, shared
jokes, quirky idiosyncrasies, hand
squeezes … No more “I’m sorry. See
ya later! What time will you be home? Be
careful! Have you seen my keys? Let the dog out.
Where’s the checkbook? Remember the ballgame,
recital, play practice … Don’t forget the trash.
Her diaper needs changed. Daddy’s home!
How was your day? I need a hug.
Love you; right back at ya.
Do you have to go?”
A parade of strangers,
well-meaning friends, converge
at my front door to plan a good-bye
that doesn’t even seem real. What is the
protocol? Who should be called? Included?
This is bigger than my numb and empty arms. But
he is a hometown hero, after-all, and they want to do
it right. Top-notch. Center-stage. Befitting this
man who shared my deepest secrets, my
bed, my heartaches, my uncertainties,
imagined (and very real) fears.
My fondest memories.
No time for questions:
“How? When? Where? Why
him?” But, he was coming home! What
will I do without him? How do I take another
step forward? My legs are wooden. Keep breathing,
moving, watching, waiting, hoping, praying, yearning,
expecting. Maybe they made a mistake! It’s been known
to happen. What about the kids? They need their
father. I need my soul-mate. And the tears
come again, just when I thought the
well had been spent. How
can I possibly go on?
A whispering
in my soul, a gentle nudge:
“I Am with you always, even to
the end of time. I will not leave you or
forsake you. I Am a husband to the widow; your
strength, shelter, ever-present help in time of trouble.
I Am your all-in-all. Nothing can separate you from
my love. I give my angels charge over you to
guard you in all your ways. I Am the
Resurrection and the Life. He who
lives and believes in Me
Shall never die …”
And so I walk
through this valley with
hope in my heart. No mortar barrage,
land mine, bullet, car bomb, or sniper can
rob me of the deep assurance flooding my heart
in this quiet hour. There is peace, victory — even in the
midst of my greatest sorrow, because of an empty tomb
vacated by Heaven’s own Home-Town-Hero. “He is
risen!” the angel said. “He is not here.” And
because He lives, my beloved lives,
waiting for me on the other side
of this ticking clock.
