in the hush
between seasons
heaven concedes
the fragile convergence
of story to wings
a wordless reminder
of some other life
where all that we kept
was an allegiance
to sky –
a thread
weaving darkness
to light
. . .
21 Friday May 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality, Storytelling
in02 Tuesday Feb 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality
inTags
bliss, connection, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, life, love, poetry, reason, relationship, spirit, truth, understanding, wisdom
in darkest days
we seek the light
which shines eternally
our prayers for grace are answered then
as those I lift for thee
as ageless as the pen to trust
the truth grows ever clearer
returning love to all who love –
and seek to draw it nearer
pages tempted from the past
become my destiny –
each step one closer to the light
where others wait for me
should e’er my name your heart recall
in blood or ink confess –
then I shall love you still the more
and never love you less
. . .
26 Monday Oct 2020
Posted Poetry, Rambling, spirituality, verse
inTags
a world upside down, age, another life, life, love, mystery, reason, remember, timing, truth
once before
the sun was burnt
against a winter sky –
as snowflakes fell
to hide the path of light
morning woke
within a shade
of charcoal
dust
and shale –
poppies raised
their weary heads
goodnight
prepared to greet
their savior –
a story all but told
how planets carved a path
around the moon
stars succumb
to melting
beneath the evergreens –
lies we reinvested
as the truth
deep within the
stillness
mystery unfurled
as lovers sought the start
of something new
forgotten
to the splendor
of a world turned upside down –
timing slipped
to nothing
we could do
another time
some other life –
a morning much like this
is haunted by a memory
of the one –
a day when flowers drifted
across a winter black
searching out the shadows
for the sun
. . .
“I’ve never loved the wrong person, but I have loved the right people at the wrong time. The wrong life. The wrong moment.”
24 Friday Jul 2020
Posted Poetry, spirituality
in04 Thursday Jun 2020
Posted Poetry, spirituality
in01 Friday May 2020
Posted Poetry, spirituality
inone begins another
a fall of ancient breaths
reminders
left in slumber
much too long
memory –
she’s fair enough
but keeps her secrets close
– cares only for the places
we belong
as disregard
for moments cleft –
how many yet to go
love remains
the best we have to give
permission for the coming back
to all we sought to find
– many dreams
with only one to live
. . .
07 Tuesday Apr 2020
Posted a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling
inTags
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
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
29 Sunday Mar 2020
Posted Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling, verse
inTags
beginnings, breath, connection, destiny, fearless, forgiveness, grace, kentucky, life, love, moments, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, southern, spirit, strength, touch, truth, understanding, wandering, wonder
as the essence
of remember
floating golden thru the trees –
fingers reach beyond
the midday sun
fumbling with moments
love forgot to say –
sunlight swirls
in feeling just begun
silence wraps
the weary heart –
promise wears us down
with memory of places
yet to be
quiet proves a slow refrain
of stories never told –
verses fall
into the years
between
musings o’er the reasons
and wondering
the pause –
what of life and where
the leaves are blown
swept on dreams repented
by the way we hold the words
bittersweet –
the flight of love
unknown
. . .
22 Sunday Mar 2020
Posted a time for telling, folklore, Poetry
inTags
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
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
. . .
04 Tuesday Dec 2018
Posted a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling
inTags
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 of 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.
Years 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.
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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