but grief always takes a side in things that really matter…

 

beach bottle cold daylight

Photo by Snapwire

 

Like a message in a bottle bobbing in the water

Sun bleached and salty skinned I washed upon the shore

 

I am made from stronger stuff than it appeared

being born an old soul, competent and sure

 

I wished for middle ground, something I could manage

But grief always takes sides in things that really matter

 

The literal peeling of my skin and raw down to the marrow

I wanted to die and be done with the making of this sorrow

 

Then a warm hand put a cup of water to my mouth

I lapped it up as if water wasn’t all around me

 

A voice said, ” I am grief and I am not here to take you under

But you must take a side in things that really matter.”

 

 

 

 

 

The Devil Came to Cuba

 

antique automobile automotive car

Photo by Pixabay

Blue crystal deepest ocean

Hot sun high in the sky

The devil came to Cuba

Had to run or die

 

You came seeking refuge

The way so unclear

Fighting hard for freedom

You let me see the years

 

We are old and wise now

We cannot count the “ifs”

I still hear your Latin song

And taste Cuba on my lips

Icy bare branches…

branch cold freezing frost

Photo by Pixabay

 

Icy bare branches

sway in the wind

the death winter brings

reminiscing again

 

round goes the cycle

so providentially set

to die is to live

and be born again

 

the desire is endless

to live in that place

where the glory of sight

Is to look upon your face

 

Joe and the Pepe’

 

red glittered wallpaper

Photo by NaMaKuKi 

We had the Red Tide

the summer of seventy five

All the shrimpers went away

but sailor Joe stayed behind

 

Joe cursed the Red Tide

Stayed drunk on Muscadine

Until one day the Pepe’ set sail

never to be seen again

 

From that day till this

The Old timers tell tales

Of a ghost ship, the Pepe’

With its bright red sail

Cracked Mirrors

blue close up colors cracks
Photo by the happiest face =)
We were exalted in Eden
above all creation ruled
Even in our fractures of sin
   we bear His image like rare jewels
 
The lilies of the field
nor Solomon and all his gold
Can please the Holy One more
than the image that we hold
 
We are all cracked mirrors yet
reflecting still God’s face
We are exalted by His blood
in His high and heavenly Grace