Wednesday, June 30, 2010
There is a certain kind of hope that comes from emerging empty handed from tribulation's fire, knowing you have survived with nothing more to loose and surely everything to gain.
There is a certian kind of grace that comes from crossing the threshold of forgiveness, to know the difference between being it's giver and the vulnerability of being it's grateful receiver.
There is a certain kind of strength that comes from reaching out, not to pick up the heavy burden, but instead to humbly lay it down.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Life's accumulation of all the "maybe somedays" rise up like stone walls of crumbling sins.
They build a barrier between our sense of feeling, and what penetrates and we allow in.
Then complacency seeps in and settles to stagnate underneath,
forming empty places deep where the human eye can never see.
Like birth, we open wider to try to brush the surface and kill the deeper ache we hide.
But only God can break the stone to touch the soul, and fill the cavities inside.
Magpie Tales a great site for writers
Recently I had a long visit with the dentist. It was the completion of many trips to repair years of neglect.
When the hygienist said to me open wider, at that moment it dawned on me how we have such tunnel vision in life. We spend all our time busy with mundane daily tasks, and neglect the things that matter most. It was like God was saying to me, "open wider, there are many more things to be repaired here".
:-) I am still working on that. :-)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
yet her heart in its many years stands gracefully still.
Her eyes have lost their keen vision to connect the needle with the thread,
yet her spirit can see the glistening of life's beauty that is ahead.
Her strength is slowly unraveling making her too weak to spend hours on her work,
yet the hems of her soul are still as strong as her worth.
Her outer beauty has lost it's luster, like the fading of a cloth,
yet underneath her beauty is greater than it was.
I can see her life now as not an ending sunset, but instead the beginning of the dawn,
for underneath a faded quilt the stitches still stand strong.
For Aunt Margaret
Monday, June 21, 2010
Regret has an anthem that echoes in the silences of the night.
It blankets with doubt, and steals rest with it's own blunt knife.
All the missed calls, cracked china ,and dying gardens of the day,
are like open caskets that were meant to be closed, but I will look anyway.
The luxury to forget all the mundane and colossal will not be found,
for all the shadows blends in like a face is to a shroud.
Yet, like a long illness, rest will certainly come soon enough,
as it passes through the remains of what could have been ,and all that never was.
Prompt 2 Insomnia
Friday, June 18, 2010
They say that a paper cut hurts worse than a stab, and Mr. Hoffman knew first hand that was right.
For he was watching his lawyer and Mrs. Hoffman's, slowly divide both their lives.
The sting of the silences had torn loves core, and emptied the words that were left.
Leaving a woman he once held, filled with morsels of regret.
Now its down to a mortgage, a dog, 3 kids, and 2 cars.
While he is left with regrets of his own, and a broken heart.
Afterwards he will lay with a remote control, and a dog on a roll out bed,
with regrets slicing torment inside of his head.
For these things were the culprit that gave the stabbing blow.
That have left him to live as half the man he had once known.
A great site for writers Magpie Tales
"Do you know the most surprising thing about divorce? It doesn't actually kill you. Like a bullet to the heart or a head-on car wreck. It should. When someone you've promised to cherish till death do you part says "I never loved you," it should kill you instantly." ~Frances, from Under The Tuscan Sun
Friday, June 11, 2010
a blank canvas with dull edges unsharpened yet truly sharp
it was like dusty guitars with no strings to play
or an empty crystal vase
her pearls were lost at the bottom of a drawer never to be worn
the creme brulee would remain untorched
each one a perfect thread to a beautiful quilt never made
.....all because when idea's orb was within her grasp
she did not take the time to get a pencil
and simply write it down.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Years later after she passed away, the chair ended up in my grandparent's garage once again draped with a sheet. I came across it searching for old photos of my family. I had spent many nights there at my grandparent's and other friend's houses throughout that difficult time.
Looking back now, I realize it was simply my Dad's way of protecting me from the emptiness that so filled our home. I suppose he did not understand that loneliness is not merely solidarity, for I learned then, that it is also magnified by being kept apart from where you are meant to be.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
A horse within her fences needs no saddle nor her reins. Galloping her own pasture holding wind's freedom within her mane.
She follows not a footstep, for each made is yet her own. Gracefully keeping her destination, though she must dance there all alone.
A horse within her fences, where the gates are closed up tight. For liberty has no saddle, yet it always has a price.