American poet

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

/ jill autrey dorman

 

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

/ jill autrey dorman

 

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

Joe and the Pepe’

/ jill autrey dorman

 

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

/ jill autrey dorman / 2 Comments
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

Hard paths, strong shoes…

/ jill autrey dorman / 4 Comments

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She was pulled into the boxcar with a burning jerk to her arms with dogs barking from behind. She could not think a straight thought in her head so she must be losing her mind.

Just a day ago she was laughing  and dancing and playing in the sun. The evening brought screaming and raping now her parents are gone.

Suddenly jostled from a dream where she was safe and warm. The dead dark of night brought more cries of agony raining down like a storm.

Now she is ordered to walk into the woods and not speak to anyone. She focuses her eyes on her old sturdy shoes the tops of them all covered in blood and urine.

She can hear her Father’s voice so gentle and kind.  Reminding her not to fear the hard path for God is on her side.

“He will not ever leave you nor forsake you nor will he disregard your state.  He provides you with strong shoes to walk the hard path.”