Roots

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Rain heavy leaves

surviving the fall

spine fractured and severed high,

alive only in memory of a collective grace.

With  dreams of new life budding

in leaf soaked earth,

roots nurture all of life 

Mother kissed 

birthing a new haven.

Saved

IMG_1297.jpegRestless for the air outside

in the light of un-stained glass.

I count my breath to calm my spirit with

doors closing and hushed children.

Invocation then

to dreams and freedom

away from pretense and prose,

Amen.

 

September 2017/ cell phone photography
Florence, Italy

reach

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The heart grows tender only in the dark places of pain and loss

where seeds of anger die too slowly

but then reach

for the hope of rebirth

for the delicate touch of light

for a healing shower of grace and love

Everyday

building door entrance exit
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Every day breathes hope from forgotten dreams

taking for granted expected miracles of awareness.

But out the door then,

without coat or cover

on to a human paced journey of doing and stuff-

an accustomed living with exposed intentions

and brokenness, storms and tantrums,

only then to circle back where a closed door shields the heart

in prayerful submission to the chill of that day’s failed ending.

 

Essence

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In the cycle of death 

beyond time and space

a light 

boldly sings

an essence of forever being

and my soul remembers why I am.

 

 

 

Photography thanks to Expose Nature @WordPress

 

Winning

silhouette-into-the-sun-DSC_0377.jpgDreams and hopes light the path for tomorrow,

not rushing what can be done to win every now.

Time is never managed

but lived in random synchrony within a moment’s notice. 

Let Light

and Breath

and Love

find my soul ready.

 

photography thanks to Charis Psallo @wordpress

 

Hug

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The mountains hug forgotten ones

Souls known in gestures centuries old.

Wonderfully wild and high enough

where clouds can wet their tears and soften edges

All in breathless upward climb in rhythm find

a peaceful soul

and a memory, union sweet.

Then falling down in gasps of fear darker turns and twists

My footing gone

the mountain moves

in outward reach

– embrace.

Melancholy

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A death comes sometimes without the warmth of grief 

–emotion detached rising to shut the door

with you alone

A melancholy

in spaces outside of tidy ones

where light blends with dark and a journey beyond can begin

 

photography courtesy of Beauty of Abandonment