a moment (forever) ~

20 Thursday Aug 2015

Tags

acceptance, find me here, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, knowing, love, seasons, seeing in the dark, time, trust, years

a moment
(forever)
was the last time
(the first)
looking thru eyes
the same (still)
as mine
seeing me clearer
than any
(save one)
silence
(longing) to fill
hands falling
tenderly
glistening
raindrops
reasons and seasons
for times
(we remain)
understood
as a sigh on our lips
(amen)
remember
(forever was) once
the echo of bliss
released
to my heart
ashes
(rivers)
nights (in the kitchen)
scattering whispers
let us begin
the leaving (worn bare
by our living)
all is forgiven
time grieves (for none)
the trust that was love
(a moment)
our all

. . .

unraveled ~

12 Wednesday Aug 2015

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, home

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

acceptance, blessings, courage, family, guardians, home, love, travel, truth

on nights like this
the world
is but a glowing firefly
where streams
of ancient silver
swirl around
a moment of eternity
is cast from distant shores
messages unraveled
by the gods

. . .

cathedral ~

11 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

acceptance, beauty, becoming, blessings, divine, heaven, home, life, love, nature, peace, truth

Most days, as I arrive home, I’m scanning the tree line, hoping to see one of three bunnies that live in my yard. They adore my abundance of clover.

The newest is just a baby. This morning, as I walked out before leaving the house, he emerged from beneath a pine, stretching as if I had disturbed his sleep. It’s the same tree where I saw him last night, as my headlights traced the edge of his ‘one of a kind’ bunny ears. Regardless of my day, I squeal with delight when I see him or one of the others.

They remind me of a truth far deeper than ever I could write.

I am a child of nature. There’s no other place where I feel as whole, as blessed. There are places I know of that seem to be as close to heaven as possible. The air is clearer, the pace a bit slower, and even babies stop their crying.

Every breath is one of divine intention, manifestation of a loving God.

I believe the hardest commandment to keep is the last – Thou shall not covet. I feel the need to confess every time I visit Millie’s port. I’m in total envy of her place in North Carolina. I imagine the cool dirt path beneath my toes, the soft shush of wind pushing bough against limb.

There’s a similar spot not far from me, where I cannot pass without stopping, sloughing off my shoes, and wading into waters surely as clear and cool as they were thousands of years ago.

It is my refuge, my recharger. It is home regardless of where I’m going or how long I’ve been gone.

it is here that I
understand
what was surely the
lesson
set deep in my bones
a voice
I remember
from a far distant place

was to gather me
home
a wanting so right
I could lay
side by side
with the stars
tracing back the journey
the ways we had come
returning of souls
unto one

creator of all
calls my beginning
none
no other the same
as the fate
of a sparrow
a silent recall
to the heart
we were sharing
another
one day

a lighted
cathedral
of cedar and spring
windows
propped up
by the night

here I am nothing
everything true
a melding of shadow
endeared to the light
memory given to name

beloved of heaven
writer of wings
breath I have tasted
as mine
is known in this
stillness
where I am begun
from a song
once the robins
were singing
so sweet

. . .

http://momentswithmillie.me/author/momentswithmillie/

evergreen ~

10 Monday Aug 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

acceptance, blessings, divine, forgiveness, gifts, giving, grace, grief, healing, introspection, joys, loss, love, meek, nothing more than this, seasons, time, truth

As of late, I’ve been criticized for being distant, quiet, unavailable, aloof, and downright selfish.

My southern grace pushes me to apologize, but the part that is protective of me – my hurts, my heart, my silence – doesn’t feel the need to say I’m sorry, for fear it will be seen as an opening door – an unwelcome intrusion into the private world that is me.

Experience has shown me that it is a fragile line which divides time I need for myself and time I gladly sacrifice for others. Perhaps that’s why it’s so noticeable, since most of my time is spent on the sacrifice side of the fence.

Years ago, I was going through a rather traumatic time, and I didn’t share it with my family. Some likely saw that as selfish, and yet, it was a difficult period and my focus needed to be on myself. I’m certain (still) that if I had shared it with others, my role would have changed into being one to helping them to get through it. It’s also possible that the shift in focus would have been good for me, even if it came with the cost of certain burden.

Sometimes (selfish or not), it has to be about me. And sometimes, it is in these times that I realize those who love me most – those who allow me whatever I need (even – and especially when – it is at odds with what they would prefer).

Thank you for allowing me the gift of oneness, the sweet rapturous void of nothing…….. ❤

what time remains
as once we gathered
shadows of the sun
hands were folded
soft into
dreams we dared become
a fallen spark
of ancient light
some other
might have been
moments held
within the space
of one

evergreen
and miles to go
home before we knew
a garden bloomed
from seeds
of yesterday
a path
not one remembers
a distant
passing through
remains the same
as these we loved
blessings to repay

nights beyond
when all I dreamed
was you

. . .

swirling ~

05 Wednesday Aug 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

acceptance, becoming, bliss, breath, divine this, eternal, fragile, journey, joy, love, moments, nature, returning us to home, sacred intimacy, seasons, time, together, travel, unremembered

for heaven
might I hesitate
the giving of my all
or barter here
for one more yesterday
when willing met
with needful dreams
one night beneath
the boughs
sealed within the silence
of truths we couldn’t say
as proof allowed
in making less
soul to bind my weary soul
words
the stars mistook
for let me in
whispers to the
forest floor
swirling luna flight
breath
where once
your ache
became my skin

. . .

lessons of love come before ~

30 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

acceptance, assurance, blessings, destinies, dreams, endearing, forgiveness, gravel roads, home, life, lifetimes, love, seasons, time, touch, travel, warmth

of late
I’ve grown cold
to the ways of the world
bruised by the
easing of time

subdued by the splendor
of dreamless
intent
names rubbed away
by pieces of light

fixed to my window
by lacey white sparrows
winged past the
curtains
one night
as I lay

silent beside
the remembrance
of more
cursing the lessons
of love come before

a moment inclusive
of always

hands
O how lovely
they loved

. . .

dirty and red ~

22 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

acceptance, age, angels, assurance, becoming, blessings, forgiveness, gravel roads, home, knowing, love, memories, time, travel

where comes
the assurance
nothing is lost
though winters seem longer
by far
than the first time
I knew you
lines barely crossed
a road wearing
somewhere
dirty and red
neath the night
I was waiting
to carry you home
with stories of always
and stars
in my hair

. . .

whispers to lace ~

21 Tuesday Jul 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

acceptance, age, blessings, conscious consciousness, divine this, forgiveness, gravel roads, home, knowing, life, love, truth, will

of moments
I’ve known
a path through
the tears
a faint recollection
of days unto years
poetry carved
as rings to
the wood
of seasons and reasons
tethered to place
come as a lover
of longing embrace
as nights without
slumber
whispers
to lace

silence the same
as forgetting

some other
another
of dreaming I knew
the weight of remember
was passing me
through
noonday and were you
to hold me
like this
as a moment of always
burned to a kiss
lest living
come easy
as light on the morn
as wake to the keeping
was love
to discern

. . .

sometimes (waiting to be) ~

01 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

acceptance, comfort, destiny, divine this, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, healing, home, intimacy, living, love, sometimes, soul, truth

I’ll stay
here beside
if you start the fire
from pieces remembered
the same
another so cold
you thought I was leaving
back through the days
undecided
I came

led by a dream
fearful of nothing
but the loss
of your warmth
in the night
the feel of your whisper
echoed in silence
returned from the edges
I waited your light

to save me
from something
darker than death
deeper than sorrows
I’ve known
the way your smile shines
when you wrap me
around
a moment of tender
willing me home

where love is made
welcome
by a hand holding mine
promise
waiting to be
forever surrendered
just before dawn –
a kiss
then another
remembering
me

. . .

rememories ~

16 Tuesday Jun 2015

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

acceptance, divine this, family, fearless, grace, gravel roads, home, inheritance, knowing, love, postmark, rural traces, sacred intimacy, sometimes, story, time, truth, value

Over the weekend, I had a moment – an epiphany of sorts. Perhaps it was just a fleeting view through an almost empty glass, but it was good.

I was standing in the market browsing maple syrup options. I love maple syrup, and am somewhat of a snob when it comes to pancakes, waffles, butter, and syrup.

Anyway, back to the telling. There between the maple leaf shaped bottles and the plastic options for fat free, sugar free, and tasteless, was a bottle of Karo syrup.

My fingers lingered over the label, while my heart was racing backwards to a clapboard kitchen where my granny sat in a straight back chair not far from the woodstove. With the practiced hands of a chemist, she poured Karo syrup in a bowl and then a stab of butter.

With her tiny hands, she gripped the bowl and beat the concoction until it was the color of summer wheat. Then she would dip one piece of bread at a time (referred to as light bread by we southerners) into the sweet batter.

And one piece at a time, we would wait patiently for a piece to be passed to us. Our little bit of heaven – our divine sacrament for living a life swelled up with blessing.

But the ‘aha’ moment was in realizing that I hadn’t told that story, and it’s also quite possible that the memory is folded just as sweetly away by my sisters and brother – in a place where treasure needs not space or name. And the thought that I hadn’t shared made me a bit sad, for surely it is a felony against creation to hoard away the best parts of us, the stories of our becoming.

Bet you know what I had for dinner Sunday evening……..

Let us speak kindly of our beginnings, memorizing anew the parts where love made us at home.

. . .