Looking out with weathered views I find there is much seen from places away from where I stand
The other window, past the trees where the wind blows from the north is something else
if I close my eyes and listen closely – I shiver and know.
I am blind though to the color of the eastern view from my western space
Looking out with simple delight– only with framed views I fear.
Photography via Julieallyn wordpress.com
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
A year of days learning framed love circling hate
disease stuck and captured
with thoughts small and great.
Weeds purple miles traveled on mondays commute
pressed edges of asphalt
by wild flowered fruit.
Yet not many linger so driven so straight
bound to mark souls
captured and saved.
I wake now to birth from life to my life
from breath to a death
grace sun-kissed in now.
Cicadas fading hum meets the cool morning breeze
with a call and response litany among the usual flight of birds
except geese in formation against the wind directly pointed
while the lutheran’s sanctioned bell begs their ordered migration.
It is Sunday.
It is the day the trees dance in 1st position to know Sabbath’s touch.
photography via Stephenltyler.
Maybe it’s just restlessness
in the perpetual grind of a broken spirit.
Maybe it’s fearfulness
in the gasp of life without meaning.
Maybe it’s loneliness
in want of being home where I can be we.
It’s definitely unstable
with steps not leading to a lone path.
It’s definitely noisy
with doubts out-crying a rhythm in dissonant tunes.
It’s definitely me
in a space holding it all
in a matrix of twisted becoming
in quest for a soul – everliving.
photography courtesy of Pat Cegan
A journey to stay connected and embraced leaves you vulnerable and obvious.
You will not be strong all the time.
A journey to be present even among shame and pain leaves you broken.
You will not win.
A journey with the sun leaving for winter and then back again leaves you tired.
You will change.
A journey to find your place with strangers at the table will leave you hungry.
You will know–bittersweet.