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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

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Category Archives: a time for telling

once were words ~

12 Monday Oct 2020

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality, verse

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

blessings, life, love, moments, morning, soul remembrance, spirit, time, touch, truth, worth

beyond the first
of lifetimes spent –
spread beneath the cedars
a scratch defies the hour
we were born
for what becomes
of moments held above
the worth of others –
a touch
to free the night
we waited on

hold my name
upon your tongue –
as memory of taste
tie it to a story
none can tell
as well as you –
tho time has eased
into another morning –
where once were words
twas there
I loved you well

. . .

witness ~

23 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

blindness, country, courage, divine, evil, faith, honor, liberty, love, riots, scripture, truth, witness

hands

I have no words
no sympathies –
for that which undermines
the heart that sings
of liberty –
of destinies divine

what purpose this
that evil rise –
so madness become right
– what faith I bear
as witness to the light

. . .

little hands ~

07 Tuesday Apr 2020

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

connection, destiny, dreams, faith, family, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, inheritance, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, our greatest treasure, passion, reason, strength, truth, understanding, value

windowtomyheart

Of all the things we carry with us, home is perhaps the lightest.

Every year or so, I find reason to be in the area where my grandparents lived for most of my life. Each time, my initial response is the same ‘who moved the house closer to the road?’

In my memory, the yard was huge, as was the orchard and the pond. It was surely a day’s walk to my grandpa’s store (rather than the quarter mile it is now). And how could such a little house and little porch hold so many people, so much love?

In the confines of my heart, the roof pushes against my breastbone and apples fall to the safety of little hands.

We may move, and we may know the feel of many floors beneath our naked feet……..but always, there is something greater we carry with us. We may wander, but we never really leave.

*sigh*

there’s no sign
to point the way
no wear upon the road
but I’d swear
the air is cleaner
in this place

beyond the want
for getting back –
someone waits me now
denied the fault
for leaving –
opened arms of grace

. . .

Republished from original – 2014

touch divine ~

01 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

covid-19, gratitude, loss, love, reminders, social distancing, soul, spirit, time, touch, truth

follow
broken now
a promise meant
for ears not one can hear
for moments spread
across the gift of time
weaved into another
this fragile love
to know
ashes fall
as tears betray
the loss
of touch
divine
. . .

whispered into sorrow ~

22 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, folklore, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

awakened, becoming, connection, death, destiny, faith, family, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, restless, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding, value

silencewing

lest I awaken
mourning dove above my head
whispered into sorrow
by his song
will all I have
a pittance make
compared unto his loss
a place alone
where silence beats the same

sworn to birth
some other time –
before the sky burned black
was here
the reasons scattered us apart
folded as a memory
into the great unknown –
while fortune sleeps
beside us
in the dark

. . .

eyes of the heart ~

29 Wednesday May 2019

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, spirituality, Storytelling

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

acceptance, forgiveness, here am I send me, homeless, journey, life, love, moments, path, sharing, soul, spirit, story, truth, what matters most

Most every day, he is there.

Sonny stands on the exit ramp with his dog (Miss Peabody), dependent on hearts that often can’t see him, eyes that rarely meet his.

He has become my friend. I speak to him anytime I’m on the ramp. Sometimes I offer him a bottle of water, a newspaper, a sausage biscuit (or Miss Peabody), or some spare change. I enjoy talking with him, and he has told me more than once how much I mean to him. Miss Peabody rests her head on my window while we talk, likely grateful for a few moments of air conditioning.sonny

A week ago last Friday, as I pulled away and into traffic, I realized that I had not mentioned my plans to be on vacation the following week. When I traveled the same road that afternoon, I looked for him but he wasn’t around.

The week passed, and yesterday morning, as I approached the top of the ramp, I saw him. I had never seen him in such a state. He was sitting on the guardrail rather than standing, holding Miss Peabody at his side as he looked toward the ground. He didn’t even look up, and just as I stopped, the light changed.

I rolled down the window and hollered, ‘wake up, Sonny’.

His head jerked and he was immediately on his feet waving his arm, all the while juggling Miss Peabody and laughing…

I haven’t talked to him since returning. This morning, someone else had reached the ramp ahead of him and taken his ‘spot’. Regardless, I expect I will see him soon.

We can never know the impact we have on another’s life, or how the size of our own heart can alter the size of another’s. I only know that Sonny blesses my life…..and I think I bless his.

How easy to forget that we belong to one another. Any concern too small to be turned into a prayer is too small to be made into a burden.

let me know
when you are going
tell my heart
that it be spared
from the ache
that finds you missing
left to mourn
for moments shared
I will grieve
until you find me
carried by your presence home
to a place
that is our passing
lest we ever
walk alone

. . .

unnumbered ~

14 Tuesday May 2019

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

back into loving arms, breath, divine, easy, forgiveness, grace, home, life, love, moments, shallow breaths, time, understanding

160229151436-09-instant-vacation-travel-0301-restricted-super-169

had I known
from the start
what the stars had in mind
might have bound
up my heart early on
perceived as transgression
forgiven as such
unnamed to the darkness
just before dawn
where poetry stands
as proof of our days
was here that we first learned to love
had my soul been aware
of another somewhere
pages unnumbered
and bare
carbon impressions
of weakness and light –
fragile remembrance
of sight

. . .

beneath the frost ~

14 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, spirituality

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

endearing, gathering, lessons, life, love, remembered to home, song, soul, time, truth

beneath the frost

were that I some mistletoe
strung above your bed
a cup of bitter coffee
(long forgot)
survivors of another
time I thought to leave
you begged me wait (the winter)
warmth beneath the frost
I cannot speak
for vows betrayed –
what is (what isn’t) true
how many lifetimes
might I brave –
for one more breath
(of you)

. . .

best ever ~

04 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, faith, family, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, postmark, reason, relationship, spirit, strength, truth, wealth, wonder

Just this week, a friend told me of the start of a new tradition within her family wherein each member shared their best Christmas memory. Even in recounting the experience, tears filled her eyes as she spoke of her own, and those shared by others. There were moments of sorrow and others sweeterstillof pure joy, but eventually, they all became the best memory ever.

How is it that we’ve forgotten that? To know that every sorrow wears a coat of joy, and every bliss is but a warning of grief – a missing of the sweetest part? And yet, when measured into the same overflowing cup, they become the best – again and again.

She asked to my best memory ever and I think (partially) it was dislodged from my heart by her telling, but it is one of joy and family……….the best ever still.

Tho we didn’t know it at the time, we weren’t rich. My family of six lived in a two bedroom trailer until I was twelve. Then we moved into a castle of three bedrooms….. 🙂 The memory recalled is from the ‘castle’. Every Saturday was the same. One by one, my brother and sisters would wake for some reason and make our way to my parent’s room, my parent’s bed. Until we were all there, telling our dreams, torturing and tickling, and eventually deciding on breakfast.

But Christmas was another such time. My brother (who by virtue of the fact that he was the only son, had his own bedroom) would sleep in the girl’s room. We’d all pile into one big bed (or it seemed big at the time – tho I suspect it was no more than a full-size). I’m not sure we slept at all, but during the night, with every little squeak or bending of board, we’d speculate that Santa had come around. My brother was the designated outlook for us, and he would sneak down the hall to spy on the living room………and then run back to the safety of us to report. There was no understanding that it had to be five o’clock before we could get up. The only restriction was that we couldn’t get up before Santa had arrived.

closerYears later, I have heard stories of how long it took to get all the presents under the tree*. Between wrapping, assembling, and playing with all the toys – it was their joy we were most anticipating I think. Even now, at Christmas, I imagine the sound of little boy feet running down the hall…….. ‘he’s here, he’s here’………..

Let us keep Christmas forever in our tiny hearts, remembering things little as big. Let us keep love through the sharing of stories – creating anew every best memory.

* My Chatty Cathy doll was almost worn out before Christmas, and a promise to get a kitten for my sister resulted in an unexpected run to the country – and a cat that nearly brought my dad to stitches.  In the telling, even more sweet beautiful tears.  My dad comments, ‘we didn’t know just how good we had it’….  Then he winks, ‘yeah, we knew’……..

wake me home
some other year –
beyond this life surrendered
fall to me the places
I have known –
save for me
a little room
with not much more
for leaving –
arms to fill
wake me now
to home

. . .

Author’s Note:  One of my favorite reposted as a reminder.

years from where we started ~

25 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

comfort, divine knowledge, healing, heartbreak, intimacy, knowing what we know, life, love, memories, returning home, seeing in the dark, truth, understanding, youth

home

before as now
the same as then –
do you remember where and when
the world was new
but so were you
awake to
understanding

afraid and stilled
at finding truth
was never meant to lessen youth
or ease the heart
tho torn apart –
resolved the soul
to hurting

only love
can calm the storm –
years from where we started from
reminders of a time before
calling us to love once more –
cured only by
the aching

. . .

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Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

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