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
love
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
To know
To know the beat of waves in rhythm
stripping, striking stone to sand
gasping breath and fear together
pushed and pulled in chords of love.
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
Let’s Dance
They call it a march for a reason. A military maneuver really.
I am not inclined to walk in such a way.
But I would like to stand gracefully aware in defiance of a body politic.
In truth, I prefer to dance.
Moving in rhythm with cycles, life cycles–Unashamed and unharmed.
I prefer to dance.
Leaping with full turns, legs stronger than his arms.
I prefer to dance.
Stepping high above the platforms built by sad battles.
I prefer to dance and be captured in full swing by the pulse of divine love.
Daughters Sad Goodbye
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
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.
