A Wide Open Gate

 

It is quite simple you see

we see what we want to see

from the ocean waves to the forest trees

Each day becomes what we choose to believe

For perspective is a wide open and closed up gate

It is magic and miracles or cynical and fake

for some know doubt and others know faith

So today I choose to see great things!

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #194

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A Poem of Both Earth & Sky

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #157

“That a pansy is transitive, is its only pang.”  ~Emily Dickinson

Earth can always be broken

stirred and planted

made new

the gardener knows this

and the miracle it holds

 but men still build monuments

cement driveways and parking lots

he only sees what he wants to see

but like the gardener, children see greater things

 spirits and miracles of what can be

an unearthed flower that was once but a buried seed

for the flower is a poem of both earth and of sky

and reaches beyond the doorway of an old man's eyes

it is the true architecture of God.

Note: I wanted to write this in honor of Earth Day and in honor of all the trees that have been cut down.  Where I live there are no codes nor ordinances for building around trees, they just cut them all down and wonder why we are having so many flooding issues.

It is sad on so many levels; the carelessness, the damage,  and the loss!

Souls & Horses

Photo by Tatiana from Pexels

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 58
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Horses and children, I often think, have a lot of the good sense there is in the world.  ~Josephine Demott Robinson

Like ghosts we walk through miracles never knowing how close we come

For we cannot see what we do not believe

But in another life we were horses

Where no fences gated our hearts

Free to be what we truly were

We galloped far beyond what could be seen

Grazing truth all the while

And always hungry for more

Like a mighty wind our spirits pushed through

Making themselves known to all

For freedom does not linger on regret

Nor feed on darkness

It moves on gallantly in the light of day

and those willing to let go

Will dare to jump any fence that comes their way

But that was another life and time

The rising dust of a distant star

Here we walk through miracles never knowing how close we come

Ghosts cannot touch, but merely pass by in silence

And we cannot see what we do not believe.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

I Still See

Photo by Josiel Miranda from Pexels

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 53
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I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
~Amy Lowell,

I still see that little girl
standing before the world
she still exists
if you look a little deeper
though her skinned up knees
have turned into
deeper bruises
the kind that bandages 
cannot fix
funny how the years have a way
of changing the view ahead
turning hope into doubt
and skipping into a slow walk
we start out with a nap sack
and end up with a house full
of junk we could easily
live without
weighed down
with too many fears
wrapped in the grief of loss
we cannot forget
still I see that little girl
standing before the world
holding hope like a blanket
that same girl
still exists.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Clarity Is Future's Ghost

Courtesy Pinterest

There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was. ~Jennifer Donnelly

One Beautiful Thing

Tess's wonderful prompt site: The Mag #145

"Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid."

 ~Frederick Buechner

I used to view the world around me from a card table chair that I could fold up at any time,

when I did not want to face what stood before me.

And in that place all the debris and wreckage seemed greater than even one beautiful thing.

So my gratitude walked away empty like an abandoned room.

Real life does not have "high definition" big screen television.

The big picture can be fuzzy,

and all the details can be hard to detect.

Hope can fall down unnoticed, like a penny beneath a chair cushion,

and everything one sees can be distorted and hard to view.

For clarity can be held close and then lost like an abducted child,

leaving a soul to feel forsaken and lost in the rubble.

I know that feeling.  I have held it within my soiled hands,

and cradled it like a forlorn orphan, unable to let it go or see past the pain.

Vision is a tricky thing...what we see, and what truly lies in front of us

sometimes are simply not the same thing.

There is growth in adversity, like seeds sent astray in a harsh wind,

greenery will sprout all around in time, but until then,

all you may see is clutter and chaos.

Hope is a beautiful velvet chair that sits in the midst of troubles.

You may not see it now, but it is there just the same.

Let your heart find it, and then plop like a child into it's fold

of open velveteen wings, and then choose to see the sunlight

within the open window ahead.

Also linking with lovely Emily at Imperfect Prose