June bugs buzzing round the front porch light
hot sweet humidity on a southern comfort night…
Smell of sweet drugstore perfume
just waiting for a boy to notice or amuse
So innocent was the Muse…
Texas summer nights not far from big city lights
all the stars in her eyes on sweet southern comfort nights
Photo by Pixabay
I don’t know what you found after our childhood
Did love transform your dreams or did you have to choose?
Do we really know between the longing and the real?
I think of you often and am warmed by your gentle smile.
I hope you found a girl and some laughter.
A place to warm your heart through dark cold disaster.
Life is but a song we sing to touch others
An artist and a poet, a sister and a brother, a moment in the sun together
It doesn’t really matter when
I pull back the curtains and see you again
It will be two-sided loving
like it’s always been
Come on in my lover and friend
There is a wonderful wildness in a true loves heart
once it starts the rhythm won’t stop
do you feel it baby,
do you still feel it too
When I pull back the curtains and come visit you?
when Life is not always
a merry Tale
or Thunder makes war
from east to west…
when Day leads to
a comfortless Night
or Evil and danger bring
your Soul to unrest…
put an Axe to the Tree
of all things hidden
keep your Sword always drawn
let the Fair and the Fresh
be your Dream
never forget the High King
The mourning is in the small connections to ordinary things. The smell of her hand cream and her talcum powder…
The crinkle of his skin in the corner of his gray-blue eyes when he smiles. The silly songs he sang to wake me up each morning and the silly nicknames he called us to show His love…
The struggle, the grief, the mourning is not between ourselves and others. It is within ourselves and lay between the longing in our souls and that which is ordained by God himself…
Between the body and its desire and between the mind and its necessary vital need of renewal…
These connections are learned at a very young age, as a babe already knows the scent of his mother and the lower tones in her father’s voice …So it is that these ordinary simple connections… are in reality the sound of Joy’s voice like a warm spring rain…
These are the gentle paths of mourning that ease us into grief. There is no fear in mourning for it is a connection to our Maker…there is no fear or reason to “get rid” of grief. For without the mourning there is no comfort. Without the sorrow there is no relationship and without grief there is no Joy.
I lift my eyes
from all that is broken
from the ashes of idols
from lies that are spoken
I lift my eyes
from this earthen vessel
from unanswered questions
from the unfulfilling morsels
I lift my eyes
the window of my soul
to the heaven’s Creator
to The One who has control
I lift my eyes
where my Faith will be made sight
at His appearing I will see
The Defender and Lover of my soul
has His eyes on me
He said, “I get my meanness from the gutter and I get my kindness from God.” I sat down under the bridge with him and I said, “I think I could say the same.” He looked at me square in the eyes and I could see he was surprised by my response. He said, “You don’t look like you know much about the gutter.”
I smiled and said “looks can be deceiving don’t ya know?” Then he laughed. The sound of his laughter was one that made me smile. His laughter was like a nine month old baby’s belly laugh. The kind of laughter where nothing is held back and a sweetness of joy rings from it. I told him I had not laughed like that in ages and he said, “Oh you can only laugh like that when Fury and Thunder have cracked your soul and all the dark places have been opened up and cleaned out and all the pieces are strewn about and you cannot put them back together by yourself. I call it reconcilable purity. This laughter only occurs when you have lost your life to save it and when you were first but now you are last…”
I sat there in sober silence but something inside of me begin to tremble. “Who are you?” I whispered. He said, “I am just an old man who has been given a new heart and all day long I just like to go around and give my heart and life away to whoever might need it for a minute or two so that they can go about their day with some pure laughter…” The gorged veined, brown spotted hands palmed my face and the old man looked me in the eye and he said, “Go and be, not do. Go laugh and cry. Go and give your life away for someone else and you will see. You will laugh the laugh of “reconcilable purity.”
I am a ruin, only pieces of me stand.
I was a fool and knew only nonsense
yet he levels the mountains before me
and cuts through my chains.
He make fools of false teachers
and keeps His promises.
His foundation is laid, it is His Son.
In my secret place He stores his riches
and gives me a name of honor.
Rejoice in the ruin that stand restored.
Inspired by the prophet Isaiah
When I wanted to dance on that ledge that was way to high
when I was a foolish naive woman child
You did not judge me rather you told me to try
when the summer storm cleared the sky I cried
I cried because I made mistakes and had deep wounds to show
I cried because I grieved the things that had ravaged my soul
I cried because I am grateful that you never let me go
You said whenever you are ready I will take you home…
and never more will you cry…
I still dance on high ledges because life is a thrill
I cherish my wisdom and my fine woman skills
I gladly now bow to you my Lord and King
So whenever you are ready my heart will take wing…
and I will be home with you…
The Lillies of the field sing for me
The waves of the sea are my dance
The stars in the heavens are my guiding light
As I dance on the ledge that is way too high!
Standing here under the brightest moon
I sense your presence like a cozy room
I feel your holy antiquity yet you make all things new
and now traveling North is true
I look over my shoulder at the past
and it is vanquished forever into long lost night
It never was what mattered to you at last
and no shadows can fall where there is only light