Time leaked
spaces feared and forgotten
memories wreaked
with daily breath once harboring hope and love.
Picture via “amdally” wordpress.com
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.
Lines
I race through lines of shadowed trees
marking highway miles
Beams of sun flash inbetween
stains of light on dark
Never slow. Never stop.
Nothing stills the soul
A one-way movement through the day
as still the cancer grows
Nothing soothes the sting of flames
lining every breath
A daily journey–race it seems
through lines of shadowed trees
Another lightning in-between the patient-doctor space-
Data-speak and comfort lines
my very human face
reflecting life as memories
shadows close the day.
Photo by Trevor Cole
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
Strandings…
There is no imagination even
to find the journey
with lovers, dance and sacrament.
Evening shadows of vessels block the shore, the portals.
No tides, no swell. No circles of sun and moon.
Just flatland -well calculated, illustrated, dramatized and over spoken.
The daily grind , the inland
of forgotten life and being.
Image with gratitude via “Capturing The Imagination” 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.
photography alexander yakovlev
Catching Light
She knew beauty from inside out
flaming life with gentle sparks
When death like cancer found her heart
beauty breathless cried for help.
She died too early for spring’s warmth
beneath the surface broken, hurt
with hopeful lilies by her side
and dreams of color catching light.
-For Janice.
Nothing really.
Empty places are not alone.
They are not so quiet either-
taunting and haunting thoughts
in exploding fragments full of grace
reforming time,
taking nothing really into the soul
and finding there a divine space.
Resist
Bone chilled cold
feeling the force of the day mid winter
I apologize to those tall and green
standing alone with promises of spring
I don’t know their grain within
holding promises that warm
resisting the frozen cover of ice and snow.
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