The Rape

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Attached to this moment by a thin string pulled

 by a memory my body won’t cut loose.

An uncoordinated swallow and choking breath

release head from heart.

Alone

At risk

Trust dissolved in rhythms that would otherwise heal.

 

The Rape

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Attached to this moment by a thin string pulled

 by a memory my body won’t cut loose.

An uncoordinated swallow and choking breath

released the head from my heart.

Alone

At risk

Trust dissolved in rhythms that would otherwise heal.

 

Brew

close up photo of a cup of coffee
Photo by Chamod Kushan on Pexels.com

 

Morning tea preferred

warm, gentle

Coffee every morning

 powered

by enthusiasm to blend a version 

of his perfection.

Promise year: 41

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To have and to hold “will not last long”

-too messy too expectant they said

yet 41 promise years later,

we stand each whole and yet one.  

Never really over,

the gospel of love embraced.

The time together traced in the lives of too many

but especially three

with days years or moments left to bloom.

Origins

img_0044-e1563626413874.jpgOnly so many heartbeats said a man-

trusting scarcity somehow to direct a life.

But daughters

hold treasured seeds of grandma’s eyes and DNA

inside their wombs not yet full

and they dance.

Pressured

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Not just frayed but edges pressed

pulled away with time

in pieces laid open.

Broken bloodlines crushed

still reaching for daylight

heart in hand

in love-seasoned life. 

 

Photography courtesy of Guldman “TheGolden Hour” wordpress.com

 

 

 

 

 

Daughters Sad Goodbye

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His poverty of love betrayed every effort

and he settled for survival-

afraid even of comfort

a man alone in a mind framed by fear.

His death came as could be expected-

outside, nature fallen.

Along his years-

he was loved without knowing how to love, 

embraced not knowing how to hold, 

home not knowing how to father.

Yet in this moment, in this breath

he is today beloved.

 

photography courtesy of Sarah Vaughn

Reconciliation

regret

The story deep in the marrow of my life betrays the simple touch of air to skin. Blood-spilt memories lay unheard, unknown but pulse with my breath and soul.

The stains of love and hate look the same in me and equally reflect the tragedy of my fears-

and I pray for reconciliation.

 

Photography courtesy of Ginny Hunt

Easter

in-rain

Smooth and loose inviting touch

…soft puppy-belly-wrinkle-like

not morning’s bite so crisp or cool

but Friday peaceful inside-out.

The sigh, drawn breath… pain and all

embracing life most tender there.

A gaze embalms the heart to flesh,

enmeshed triune incarnate life

…soft puppy-belly-wrinkle-like

smooth and loose inviting touch.

 

Photography courtesy of Pat Cegan