Stars swirl in a midnight sky as
The forest tiptoes through darkness,
Aware only of itself.
The owls have returned.
Their voices in chorus give life to the darkness.
A fox barks back to them in welcome,
His winter loneliness forgotten.
(4/7/16)
Tag: love
Easter’s Promise
Snow flattened grass
Reawakens in the spring sun.
Snow banks dwindle and melt
Like arctic glaciers.
Crocuses brave the still icy winds to prove their faith in spring.
Still leafless branches sway and clack together in spring’s winds
While sap flows up from their feet and warms them from within.
Objects left outside since late October emerge from the snow, preserved as if having been in an altered state of timelessness.
Time stood still under the snow while the world and sky above
Flowed seamlessly from one season to the next, one viscous winter storm passing silently on to another.
Lawn chairs I last used in November have returned, appearing as if just back from vacation.
The chairs stand in a circle around an old, rusted fire pit with welcoming extended arms and empty seats. So I join them once again as a new season of light and promise begins, today,
Easter Sunday.
Easter is a day of great joy and hope to millions all around the world.
A day to celebrate the defeat of death and the promise of eternal life but
I see evidence of His promise every day, in early spring tree buds, in the yellowing of willows at the end of winter, in the greening of the meadow grasses and the songs of the returning summer birds.
Spring springs eternal in Gods promise to all beings, not just the human ones and not only through stories in a nice book written so very long ago …
So take a moment each day to stop and look outside and see that
Easter’s promise is everywhere, not just today but every day, in every being and
Every season.
The Stones Will Remember (March, 2017)
| Evening shadows shift
Through broken windows.
Chimney bricks slide down the roof Puddleing under the lilac bush.
Weeds spread into the driveway Reclaiming it for themselves.
When was this house built? Was it ever new?
The yard and doorframes bear witness To the families who grew here.
Long forgotten toys and broken swings Hide beneath the matted field grass.
A broken clothesline flaps in the gray autumn breeze and Sprung clothespins mold and rot into the ground beneath the broken posts.
Feral cats are now the only life that calls this old farm home, But birdsong still fills the rafters of the barn.
The barn that once held livestock Sits shifted on its foundation,
Listing and leaning to the south, Away from winter’s fierce winds.
The stately oak gracing the front yard is rotten and broken, Its fingers through the house roof.
Where did they go, the people Who called this place home?
When the last one left, Why didn’t they clean out the house?
Why not take the toys? Close the windows? Lock the doors?
Did they not know they were Never coming back?
The windmill out back has long ago Crashed into the apple orchard,
Breaking in to pieces as it fell and crushing the trees it had stood watch over all these years.
But in man’s absence The apple trees continue to produce.
The lilac bushes flower every spring in spite of Not being “cared for” in over 40 years.
The forest is slowing creeping back in to fill the void Left when the field was abandoned.
All that remains of the people who once called this spot of land home Is the family graveyard,
Where stones are carved with love and care, Preserving for all time the names and dates of those whose lives began and ended here.
But the lilacs don’t care about being preserved, The Oak is beyond pride and the buildings are slowly returning to the soil,
Just like the bodies beneath the stones. Another 40 years and the stones will be all that remains.
They will be all that is left to tell the story Of a time gone by.
The story of a house built to last a lifetime, a barn crafted with pride, The story of generations of a family who lived, worked and died on this land.
A story only the stones will remember. |
Of Love and Light
Nostalgia weighs heavy on my heart tonight,
And I long for what could have been.
But then I remember why it wasn’t but what makes me the most sad is that I also remember
That it almost was.
So wanting and loving, I sit alone in this night of late winter cold as the music of piano and cello drifts through my head.
The sound of the cello speaks to my soul and caresses my heart.
In the melody, I hear two hands playing together in perfect union and feel that
I am as one of those hands, looking for the familiar accompaniment of the other.
And so in the depths of this late winter evening I am lost in
Remembering what never was, feeling what didn’t exist,
Loving what could have been
In this time of warm darkness, candle light and winter solitude.
Now there exists only a memory of he and I, together yet alone,
Forever wrapped in the spirit of love and light.
My Child Self (still there, inside, waiting)
| Sad little girl,
Come, sit with me. Let me hold you, dry your tears, Kiss your sweet little face. I know you are hurt, I understand, I see her, I see how she is, how she treats you. Come and sit close, you can trust me, I will protect you; there is no hurting here. I know you are too little to understand, and Too innocent to see the shame and fear she holds inside. All you know is the pain of her betrayal. I know and see how hard you try to please her, yet still she is hateful and mean. I hear her tell you daily that you are not good enough, are funny looking and how she wishes she had never given birth to you. I see and feel your pain and frustration, and It breaks my heart to watch this happen to us. I have learned and grown while you have waited and now the time has come For me to come back in time to you, to a time when we were one. Look for me and don’t be afraid, come close and I will read you a story, I know she never did. I will hold you like my baby and sing your sorrows to sleep, She didn’t know how. I will show you that you are better than good enough, and I will prove to you that there is nothing wrong with you, in spite of what she said. You will never be alone again, The wait is over. Trust me my child-self, I have enough love for both of us, I pinky-promise.
After re-reading this post it has finally dawned on me why my anger and hurt at being neglected is still so strong… that was my punishment as a child for not being what my mother wanted me to be…. first she would yell at me and then she would ignore me, not speak to me for days at a time, and when she finally did, it was only to affirm how worthless I was… my husband treated me the same way, and so did other men in my life… unbelievable… so wrong and so sad for that little girl who still lives in my heart. |
Wisdom at Midnight
Last night, at midnight, an Owl spoke in the forest,
And I understood.
Listening I realized how a perpetual misunderstanding was coloring my thoughts,
But not the owl’s as her knowledge is deep and colored by nothing but the truth.
As I lay alone in my bed, I felt the darkness soothe the forest’s heart and hoped, but
It could not touch my disturbed soul.
I couldn’t see, I didn’t know what was next,
I felt suffocated by the inky blackness while
The forest mother was at peace and
Sighed in contentment.
My only peace now will come from learning from her.
To accept her invitation to surrender my will and lay down in her gentle softness,
To use a layer of her leaves as my bed while
Her twinkly night sky becomes my pillow.
I will trust her to protect me, to hold me close and
Put me to sleep with her lullaby of star-shine.
I know its the only way as Her wisdom is deeper than mine, dependable,
Greater than me, and more than just a beacon in this perpetual darkness.
Tell me, did you hear the owl’s wisdom at midnight too?
Moments In Waiting
Moments spent waiting with stillness, inactivity, and
Ticking time are the smoothness in the silence and perfection of waiting.
Is it an interruption of love,
A collective ending or …
Maybe just a pause in time,
A stopping of existence which becomes an eternity in thought.
Is time spent waiting, wasted?
Only the end will tell.
A longing to hold, a missed kiss, an emptying of soul
Fill the moments spent
Waiting.
The Single Second of Midnight
The Deep primal sounds at midnight are
A gathering of voices in the dark.
The language is unknown
But the meaning is understood.
Darkness hides the players
But not the play
As it is a script followed
Since the beginning of time.
The cast of characters remains the same with only
The players changing.
The truth of the story portrayed is undeniable, and
Is perfected in the casting of souls when the sounds of their voices gather and
Eternity resides in the single second of Midnight.
3/1/18
Open Space
This open space
Is empty.
Its door hangs from a single hinge
Creaking in the wind.
Dust and leaves blow over its forgotten sill and
Echoes of love sift through its broken threshold.
It is a sad entrance to my soul,
Neglected and damaged.
Silent, lost and forgotten.
My Mind
My mind has become my enemy,
One that shares this space inside of me but cares not for my well-being.
It turns night into day, lust into love, wants into envy,
Truth – my truth – into lies.
It whispers in my left ear, words
My right side, it knows, will reject.
In the beginning, my human beginning, my mind
Was my friend, my ally, my confidant, but no more.
So I spend my time sitting and focusing on my
Return to that initial, eternal being,
And when that process is complete,
My mind will return to its natural state as my life navigator and soul companion.
Its taunting will stop, its search for drama will cease,
Its creation of a hundred hurtful scenarios a day will end,
And once again, as it was in the beginning,
It will become my friend.
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