Tag Archives: seasons

beyond ~

07 Thursday Apr 2016

Posted by in Poetry, Storytelling

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The most amazing thing happened on Wednesday, April 6th, 2016.

Robert Brady George was reunited with his parents, Annie and DB; grandmother, Darthula; sisters, Louanna and Imogene; brothers, Eucle, JD and Hubert; a very special grandson (Nathan Allen Ray); and a host of angels, relatives and friends nurtured by 83 years of living.

It had been many years since most had been together and the lull was long enough. From all accounts, the reunion was beyond what mere words could describe. Tears of joy, hugs and kisses, storytelling, thunderous laughter and a flood of emotions were said to have filled the sacred halls. After several hours of celebrating a beautiful life, the group was seen moving at the speed of light into the heavens.

Survivors are beyond the limit of numbers, but include his sweetheart, his wife of 60 years, Bonnie; children – Bobbie Ward (Jay), Janey Ray (Rick) , Stephen George (Michelle), Renee McGowen (Terry); grandchildren – Daniel Ray (Jennifer), Stephen ‘Toot’ Ray (Rose), Andrea Ray (Brent), Robert George (Susan), Stephanie George, Hannah McGowen (Nate), Cameron McGowen; and great grandchildren – Lathan, Mia, Remie, and Brody.

The roots of this tree run deeper than names and blood; deeper than bone or the limit of words to page. Blessings have a way of multiplying; hearts, filling up until all we know is love.

God is good (all the time).

Author’s Note:  On Tuesday morning of this week, my mother suffered a heart attack and was air-lifted to a regional medical center in Nashville. She underwent a procedure for immediate repair of her heart. She worried about daddy, and though he wasn’t told, perhaps he felt it. Or maybe he felt the assurance that she was being cared for. At the end of a weary day on Wednesday, we were called to the facility where my father has been a patient for the last 8 months. When we arrived, we found him already gone, sleeping in his bed as if he had simply drifted off upon a dream. We stayed for hours, into the night, figuring a plan for how to tell mama, but relishing in stories, song, and laughter as daddy ‘slept’ within arm’s reach. We realized that had our mother not suffered her attack on Tuesday, the event of Wednesday would likely have triggered one greater than her heart could bear. Storms had swept through, keeping my brother at home (only a mile or so from the nursing facility) rather than visiting my mother. In the haste to get to the hospital, we left behind her phone (averting the call of Wednesday evening).  Time and again, we were presented with a truth greater than our grief – that every tear is precious, and that God never lets us go.

This morning, a note from my niece. My initial thought – it was a delay from yesterday.

Update on Papa this morning.
He is doing amazing! Up and tending
the garden already. Huge improvement since
yesterday!! He will visit you all today so
look for him. He is love, and he is everywhere!

. . .

asIhavelovedIamknown

back ~

30 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Poetry, Rambling

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firefly

As of late, I’ve felt the gentle pull of time, tender reminders that the road before isn’t quite as long as the one behind.

Twilight cools on an old porch, as the sun fades. Violets soften in the shadows, lavender etched by lace.

Breath is stilled by the assurance of the stars, a look back to where they shine, unaccustomed to the wish not yet made.

gather me sweetly
as a name first rehearsed
a line
unwritten to rhyme
verse and there
to places
where grace
is held apart –
words
beneath my pillow
o the night

. . .

snare ~

04 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by in Poetry, Rambling

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shine

silver snare
of aged boughs
dust beneath the day
an almost mute
reminder
of another
I can’t say

where and why
it made me blush
for reasons –
none so sweet
as moments
begged my
swollen heart
retreat

to the safety
of forgetting
how it felt
do you recall –
were there stars
and did we grieve
their silent
fall

from grace
were wishes whispered
without fear
for something less
would change
this fragile life
into one
of thankfulness

this prayer
to joys counted
some but once
tho some by name
a light
beyond the searching
where for love
the light became

a golden heat
beneath the snow
where tender
sleeps
the crimson dawn

. . .

gathered me ~

02 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Poetry

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justbeyond

a flushing breath
of starlings
spread to crease
an eastern sky –
the tepid glow
where gathered me
to dawn

crickets sigh
in serenade –
of afternoon to eve
a quiet ne’er the same
as you recall

seasons mark the
passing
of yesterday to flight
to evermore –
as I remember well

the tender ring
of silence spent –
days and weeks
no differ
than moments kept
to echo
in my heart

. . .

fluttering ~

18 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by in Poetry

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

graces
oft enfold me
as silken wing
to flame
between the stars
where night
has gone –
with destinies
to claim

remembered
home –
as dreamed I cleft
the sinner
from the sin –
another me
unknowing pens
the place
we are again

fluttering
as truth to word
lines unfit
my soul to rhyme
ages
I have wandered here –
beyond
the reach
of time

. . .

sworn to keep ~

26 Tuesday Jan 2016

Posted by in Poetry, verse

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westandhome

were seasons
undecided
by a measure made
of days
tis loss we bear –
a lifetime
shorter still

time has melted
here
and I don’t feel
the same as then
no matter
what I should
or what I will

petals lie awake
beside promise
sworn to keep –
an early spring
and one more
letting go

green betrays
the last goodbye
November
spoke about –
pastures buried deep
beneath the
snow

. . .

reach ~

25 Monday Jan 2016

Posted by in Poetry

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asIamstill

from a breath
another came
a wheel beneath the potter
a dream where once
I danced
and you reclined

beneath a bed
of evening stars
watching as I spun
round about
a lazy winter down

kisses
where each planet
grew
black against
your shining
a single song
whereby I learned
my name

come
and I’ll remember you
when days are
gathered near
when nights I reach
to find
the place
we made

. . .

marigold ~

05 Tuesday Jan 2016

Posted by in a time for telling, Poetry

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youknewmehere

for every time
another was
a mirror
yet become
ageless as the skin
along my thigh
purple blooms
a marigold
as somehow I recall
nights beyond
the catching
of a window
to my soul

fleeting
was for memorizing
webs
and sheets alike
listen now
to hear
my ancient cry
was soft
as echoes left me
knew before
my time
songs I never
learned to sing
aloud

. . .

‘little boy’ skin ~

28 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by in a time for telling, Uncategorized

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We chat about redbuds and the best kind of molasses. Lessons are made of wings to the feeder, rainbows fleeting just beyond the window sill. Stories are retold time and again.

He’s reminisced more than once about his grandmother (Darthula) and of his favorite time of year – the anticipated weeks just before her arrival, before her visit (she traveled by foot o’er many miles, unless someone with a wagon was coming their way).

She held him closer than most, breathed in his ‘little boy’ skin, whispered kisses, baked like a mad woman, and brought with her a treat they otherwise couldn’t well afford – corn flakes.

Prior to his birth, there was no real baby, as the youngest of the children had passed. He was both unexpected and treasured. His sisters spoiled, as his brothers watched over him.

He didn’t care much for eggs, but loved sausage (still loves sausage). Grandpa would sometimes rise at two just to fry him up a skillet full.

There is no leaving…no pulling back.

I speak with others and quite often, the conversation is the same, ‘I know it kills you to see him this way.’

I suppose that’s true – in a way. I wouldn’t wish this current circumstance on him, but on the other hand, I certainly wouldn’t let it keep me away. If the only options are to see him ‘this way’ or not to see him, well, there’s hardly any room for indecision.

If age and disease persist in taking bits of him, then surely, they must love him as I do.

To be truly blessed in the loving, we must find the blessing in every part of letting go, for it is in that place (of grace) that we build what will be left for clinging to later on. Sorrow is a divine inheritance – the same as joys we could not bear part from.

The wrens clamor for the darkest of the seeds, while songbirds wait patiently their favorites. Redbud boughs bend as hymns waft through nearly silent halls – where blessings are whispered without regard for the taking.

of ways
I still remember
how it was
to hold you near
though time has passed
and left no scar
at all
winds are blowing
how I love
the song they hesitate
names I spoke aloud
I speak again
leave to me
the everything –
of all I’ve known to love
let the years
forget not long –
the path
we came
for getting on

. . .