Her breathing is God singing…

christ the redeemer

Photo by Matheus Bertelli 

 

Her tiny toddler body lays wrapped against mine.

Her breathing is God singing, His Love her sigh.

No guile no malice no doubt or fear.

Her precious hands show me God is near.

She whispers my name as she falls asleep.

Never a sweeter word has been spoken to me.

My heart could burst open when I smell her sweet head.

If there is a treasure on earth more than this I choose this song instead.

The Shell Seeker

 

 

brown sand

Photo by Miri

Standing on the highest sand dune people moved back and forth on the ground below.  She no longer has their youthfulness of an unlined face but she knew she finally possessed the joy of ageless Grace. The pilgrimage called her to this beautiful place. The wind and the sun an old friend on her face.

Now she is the shell seeker in the wide brimmed hat, as a child playing in the sun she’d laughed at people like that. She remembers younger  days when she grew weary but now the days of peace are what linger here.  Emotions don’t obey the rules they are the heartbeat in being human.  Like waves reaching the shore emotions can be kept for a moment but are better when given away.

The shell seeker’ s eye remains clear and adept while watching the children play. She knows that life is not going back but more of giving it away. The Truth is, life consists in learning and loving well with Grace underneath God’s sun.  To remain whole in the midst of life’s ups and downs, to surrender all secrets and lies is anointing oil to the soul. To shed insincerity and live in the present, the waves echo behind her now compelling her to go on.

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!

 

 

 

 

 

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.

I am every blue on the color wheel…

 

pexels-photo-326055.jpeg

 

I am the girl in the dream, the girl in the hour glass.

I am every blue on the color wheel.

I rise on a great floating bubble that a child just blew out of a plastic jar of soap.

The bubble is Robin-egg blue and I am continually moving toward you.

I am the girl in the dream, the girl clasping turquoise ribbons attached to the moon.

My skin looks quicksilver blue like the Moon.

My heart is an open door that is deep blue like a navy school uniform blazer.

I turn the glacier blue door knob and I am permanently moving toward you.

I am the girl in the dream, the girl who is every blue on the color wheel.

I am soaring up toward the baby powder-blue stars, the blue-gray fog is lifted.

My blue-gray eyes finally see you and my Faith has been made sight.

The Angels Have Not Grown Older

man with wings standing on brown mountain peak

Photo by Rakicevic Nenad

 

The Angels have not grown older.

I always see them over my shoulder;

gentle, yet piercing mighty eyes.

Always checking the road maps and signs.

 

I have grown much older;

my dreams like nets all thrown.

Some  I’ve known have wished me well;

a couple of them said “go to hell.”

 

Words, just words without caring.

Words, just words both wrong and right.

Still, I journey on toward His Holy Light.

Still, the Angels lie down beside me each night…

I journey on.