Emmet

green grass during sunset

Photo by Nathan Cowley

 

The daybreak drizzle has moved out to sea.

The dawning clouds are steel gray.

The wind is about 10 knots up from the Gulf Stream.

Nations have risen and fallen, two world wars, more political unrest, man has gone to the moon and the World Wide Web has come along, but nothing much has changed on this little wedge of the island.

The tide goes in and out.

The gulls and cranes still swoop and dive and the dolphin still dance. The beautiful gold sea oats continue to hold the sand dunes together…
But now you… have been born!

Your little smile, your hands and feet have changed everything.

I cannot smile without you.

There are very few words of wisdom I will give you as you grow up and let me into your world of sticks, and bugs, and rocks.

You will sleep the sleep of the blessed each night and when I get the chance I will tuck you in.

What I will do my grandson is love you. Love you unconditionally with all of my being and spirit.

Long after I am gone I will still watch over you and love you with a love that has no end.

The daybreak is clearer now, the sea breeze cleansing. The wars and internet have no meaning to me now.

The tide is a beautiful dance and all of God’s creatures perform just for you.

The sand dunes are for you to climb and my whole world is golden.

No time to give away

 

 

time lapse photography of waterfalls

Photo by James Wheeler 

Out of my head

No point in New lies

Not hindered by sorrow

Simply celebrate my life

 

Brilliance is this instant

Melting colors into day

Living every minute

With no time to give away

 

Sorrow bears a goodness

Merriment holds no shame

Colors intense and glorious

With no time to give away

 

In my War Room

woman wearing black tank top leaning on table

Photo by Engin Akyurt

 

As if at forced shutter speed all life  now is slow motion.

A stealthy enemy invades War Rooms with limited detection.

At what price can we buy peace of mind and human devotion?

This peripatetic killer cares not for education or station

and will only be stopped by God’s love of our Nation.

 

 

I am still right here my neighbor.

I will pray through this long dark night with you.

Let us lift up our pleas to the One who heals.

Let us be the ones called courageous and true.

I will, I will fight in my War Room for you.

 

Love Rushes In

white light forming heart on black surface

Photo by Johannes Plenio

 

The Chinese refer the human heart as the “Emperor” of all the body organs. As some of you know I spent the largest part of my nursing career as a Cardiac Nurse. In the care of the heart I was in my element and in the technical exploration of the heart even more so. I literally loved looking at hearts and being a very minuscule part of attempting to repair them. There is much that technology’s advancements have taught us in sustaining healthy heart function.  Did you know that over an average life span a human heart will beat without fail over forty million times? There is a wear and tear on such a faithful organ that works this hard and there are many physiological reasons the heart will wear out, malfunction, or fail.N

Takosubo Cardiomyopathy is a type of non-ischemic (a situation not caused by “restricted blood flow”) which is phenomenon in which a “temporary weakness of the heart muscle occurs.” In lay-people terms it is referred to as “broken heart syndrome.”  A true diagnosis stating the overwhelming loss, constant anxiety, and other emotional situations can lead to a “broken heart.”

In the matters of the heart I believe we have only two options. We try to control it and it still dies or we give it over to God and it really never can die. There is no middle ground.

It is a given that after forty billion beats a heart is going to finally come to a stop. I am of course speaking tongue in cheek here as I am speaking of the Spirit of a person, their heart that does not die.

The writer Charles Martin says it this way in his book Send Down the Rain.

“Love rushes in where others won’t.  Where bullet are flying.  Love stands between them. Love pours out, empties itself. It scours the evil wasteland, returns the pieces that were lost, and never counts the cost.”

 

I have always felt set apart

big waves under cloudy sky

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS

 

I stare out my window

Like a sea wife staring out the horizon

Time moving ever so slow

 

 

 

I have always felt set apart

Looking outside of dreams into the  indigo haze

Time capturing the beats of my heart

 

 

This is what faith is

The hope of what can’t always be seen

Time cannot define where he is

 

The drums of lies touting of a merry hell

 

broken drumstick close up dark dirty

Photo by abednego ago

The drums of lies beating through the night city swells.

The lies touting of a merry Hell.

Hardened  in heart pursuing only self, dancing to the tune of gaining  wealth.

When day dawns over the city’s night all will be blinded by the Holy Light.

The drums are lying, darkness takes your life.

For Hell can’t be merry and is not the tale of fairies!

 

 

 

 

 

Dancing on a Black Hill

 

photo of wildfire on mountain

Photo by Sippakorn Yamkasikorn

It is like first seeing a wildfire not knowing what it is.

Like orange flickering holiday lights dancing on a black hill.

The odor of burnt vines and smoke are miles and months away

but slowly and surely the wildfire is edging  our way.

 

 

At first people believe it won’t affect their world

they ignore their inner call to action or care.

The next thing they know all sight is lost in smoke

now everything is burning like the wheat and the tare.

 

 

We should have listened to the prophets

their facts written in black and white.

Now the oil of apathy cannot be returned to its urn

The orange lights are now full raging fire that burns.

 

 

I put on my pink dress and kneel down to pray…

white clouds and blue sky

Photo by Ithalu Dominguez 

 

Butterscotch Sunday melted away

We rode on the train down by the bay

We built little castles with dirty brown sand

We bought Colombian

heard the Stephen Stills band.

 

You said I was the beauty of the earth

Flowers in my hair, cigarettes in my purse.

I thought that train ride would never end

until I saw you on the bridge with my best friend.

 

I pack my bags on a Butterscotch Sunday

put on my pink dress and kneel down to pray.

All the dirty brown sand castles crumble down

I’m gonna board the next train out of town.

 

Cassidy or the Sundance Kid?

ancient antique art black and white

Photo by Steve on Pexels.com

 

Cassidy or the Sundance Kid;

the master manipulator or

the quiet deadly one instead?

One in it for himself

the other needs the thrill.

One is the master mind

The other taking what he will.

I have known all kinds of men

and time has shown me well.

A man is either  Cassidy or  the Sundance Kid

as time will surely tell.