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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: relationship

never less ~

02 Tuesday Feb 2021

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, spirituality

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

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

. . .

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.

best ever ~

21 Thursday Dec 2017

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

≈ 9 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.

ancient winters ~

18 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Rambling, Storytelling

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

another time, beginning, knowing, life, love, relationship, remembering, seasons, seeing in the dark, travel, truth, wandering

sweetlythis

he spoke
of distant mornings
(a light she strained to see)
she wrote
of lowly purpose
filled with love
(and mystery)

he listened
as she listened
they talked
(and talked some more)
of the road
they passed together
another way
(sometime) before

he spoke
of ancient winters
(a field where brothers fell)
she spoke
in careful whispers
of a loss
she grieved (as well)

he cried
and she was tender
(in the catching of each tear)
she reached
to find him (waiting)
(with want
to have her) near

he stayed
(beyond the leaving)
lest she ever think
him gone
as she woke
beyond the darkness
a star
(for wishing on)

. . .

what I know ~

04 Wednesday Feb 2015

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

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, death, destiny, faith, family, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, poetry, reason, relationship, restless, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wisdom

when the lights are gone

I’m convinced that love finds us, attracted to us as moths to a certain fire, wishes to a star.

Last week was a crazy week. Two ladies in our office lost family members – one a mother, the other a grandmother. And even though the coordination of support isn’t really a part of my job description, I wasn’t surprised that it was a job that found me….. When I hesitated, I was met with a pleading look and the words, ‘but you know what to do’. That wasn’t in reference to the art of ordering flowers or food, but in reference to doing things not out of habit but a deeper understanding of what really matters to most people (regardless of who they are or what it is they think they’ve lost).

I was reminded of how many times over my life I have been asked to pray for someone. Trust me, I don’t have a direct line, but what I say and what I feel are the same. If another hurts, I hurt and so asking for some relief seems easy. When I say, “you never lose love”, it’s not some pat answer for tears. It’s more than what I believe; it’s what I know.

One of my favorite stories about my dad is much the same. He worked at an airbase for most of his life, retiring with more than fifty years in the same little office. He started as a teletype operator right out of the Air Force, and was head of communications when he retired. But he was there during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the base was on the list of potential targets. One day his boss called him in.

“Bob, if something happens, I need you here.”

“I’ll be here.”

“No, you need to promise me.”

“I promise, but you know it doesn’t matter who is here. Tom and Joe are trained the same as I am. Any of us is the same as any other of us.”

“No, Bob, it has to be you.”

My father promised, and as he was leaving, he turned back to look at the Commander.

“Why me? Why do you need me here when you have a full staff of trained technicians?”

“Because if something happens, I want someone here who God will listen to.”

I love that story, but I also love that I’ve come to understand something from many years of listening to my daddy pray. I’ve come to understand that God always listens. The rub is that there are so few people willing to talk. Some strain against the ties of formality and decorum; others against doctrine they know nothing about.

For me, my relationship with God is without limits set by man (or even by words). If I tried to describe it ….well, I’d make it less. I just know that it works. I hum under my breath, and am reminded time (and again) that I am not alone. I am never alone. The heart speaks and I listen. The soul whispers, and I listen.

As far as helping during a time of grief, I know that food speaks louder than flowers, and sometimes the right thing to say is easier than we think. “Tell me about your mama.” Our arms are never filled enough, and the heart that remembers only (ever) to love will find its place……….and those with need to mend will find it as well.

Love. It’s not just something we do.

. . .

what is now
we’ve come to find
endearing as the heart
to swell
as oceans
once a tear began
love returned
the soul to home
another life
to tell

. . .

unto light ~

31 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, destiny, dreams, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, home, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, poetry, relationship, sometimes, spirit, still, strength, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

wherestillIknow

for a moment
beginning
tho no one knows how
love becomes memory –
a faraway
flame

silence is tempted
to speak
of our loss
scars nearly faded
are remembered
by name

a tenderness
forged
by the ways we have come
returning our soul
as truth
unto light

sealed from the trading
gifts us again –
folded as prayer
as wings
into flight

. . .

relearning ~

09 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

becoming, beginning, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, spirit, truth, understanding, wandering, wonder

backintomyheart

whispers
and lies
feel the same
in the dark
weeping for somebody’s baby
promises spared
the condition of truth
ache is made home
where heart
used to be

a quiet resolved
to sleep ‘neath the bed
with secrets
the same
as dared we repeat
a tortured relearning
the language of love
poetry warmed
by the tongue

snowflake
and feather
briar and lace
scripture
and where have you been
wrapped in a story
tell me anew
of a blush
bleeding soft
thru the pines

. . .

angel light ~

28 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

bliss, cherokee, connection, destiny, dreams, grace, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, spirit, truth, value, wandering, wonder

proof

of places
this reminds me
of some other
you were there
do you remember
how the stars
were in my hair
when you lay
in moss beneath the night
was I your angel light
a kiss I keep
reminds me this
of you

. . .

we were ~

23 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

becoming, connection, conscious consciousness, divine, eternal, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, relationship, sacred intimacy, spirit, star crossed, stars, truth, value, wonder

divine

a moment of holy
sacred divine
as light thru the memory
of windows
we were
remembered another
thought we became
a star not yet fallen
a wish not yet made
a beginning more tender
than words could endure
or touch
could be trusted
to keep

. . .

ne’er a line ~

13 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, old maps, passion, poetry, relationship, spirit, strength, truth, understanding, value, wandering

rememberedhere

of verses
few are written
my passion to discern
no meter come
to match
my violin
language not yet
given breath
to longing unconfessed
cept in that tiny realm –
we are again

where sacred deemed
a moment dear
as none before the same
no poetry
committing us
to rhyme
eternities
and ne’er a line
could answer for my soul
or speak above
a silence
so divine

. . .

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Poetic Thoughts

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

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A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.

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Just a little poetry...

Revelation

MyWorldsInWords

View my worlds

yelena's poetry

Now & Then

The fears of a girl, the heart of a woman, and everything inbetween...

Blonde in Flares

Flared and prepared.

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Just a cup of poetry and cookies

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A Discovery of Enlightening Insights, Information, Humor, Writings and Musings

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Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

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Thoughts and feelings made into words about the world and times in which we live ...

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