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
For The Record
She did not match the data presented
in hospital speak to a crowd of learners.
It was not so much a lie
as it was a revealing – a tale.
The well and the ill are stories
told from all sides of a hospital bed
in space and time
not captured in code and computer screens.
So let the record so reflect
the hurt and the heart of
hands reaching
and healing
beyond the numbering of days.
Photography thanks to Nick Van Zanten
Winning
Dreams 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
Open Books
Can you read without listening to the words?
Can you see without hearing thoughts?
Ignorance protects.
Love opens.
Time to bow to the listening side of our hearts.
Image thanks to gacochran@wordpress
Nursing a Wound
Without respect to will
the heart still beats and chest breaths life.
Not true when with pain
I choose
to listen or not, to care too much-
hold so tight the hurt
the inner lines are lost
and I am not me but you.
Edge
The beauty of a sunset along the Appalachian gaps
reminds me that I wish no one ill
Yet then its shining point annoys
I squint
and the glare strains my soul
I shout
“go hide in the valley and die out”
no patience
no presence
and in that breath
I have struck an edge
from life to death
Hug
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.
liturgy
Each wakening comes with that moment we rise
As the imaginings of sleep fade with each breath of morning sun,
the liturgy of our daily sabbath begins
and our soul celebrates.
Pressured
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
Prayer
startled wakened in a scream
threatened breath
strangled dream
yet i lay me down again
a soul to keep
from terror ends
finding morning’s choir of love
hymns of peace
with eyes of God.
honestlylolly.com 