thumbprints press hard
on the outer part to shape shift being
into a failed construct
facade
hiding a soul looking for the light behind
to dispel shadows and such
searching for life beyond the creep of forced ideals
into everlasting peace
Not thinking much about god these days,
trapped in stone and stained glass.
Though everywhere I look
tangible, take your breath away visions
most often
strong, nurturing and wise
like a Mom.
A Great Lakes second winter comes with a chill
as leaves skip and fly across hop scotched grass
with the whistle of ones waving from the tree top
swinging between sun and shade
in want of spring’s rebirth
so full and drunk with salvation
coat white outside
layered over
inside
lost in a season
incognito
buried in the hope
rooted within
Lived as if traveled
from place to another space.
Felt as if stricken or lost in a fading dream
Forgotten always in bliss and love-
slower and slower in gasps of hope.
A whirl and window
until a story becomes in time,
beauty at last.
Restless 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.
I woke to rolling thunder, exploding heat
clouds exhausted in felled surrender
and at my feet the ground gave way
in one deep breath a thousand sighs
the miracle I know as summer rain.
The memory soaked moment
unwanted
stains
glass windows of prayer
church is not a go to place
but a space
where you are off stage
being
the beauty of creation
celebrating
home
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