The knockout punch…
I have eaten nothing in three days.
The pain in my chest is a slow agony.
I have no memory of warmth with others of my kind.
Although fading, my longing drives my soul forward.
A primal memory of Joy beats like a captured bird in my brain.
Yet somehow I know Him and see the full Glory of God.
So she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me. Genesis 16:13
Camellias are blooming stout and ruffled in oh so many rosy shades of pinks!
Azalea bushes lay a thick carpet for Gulf summer heat and rain.
The golden-green sea oats weave and spin the island’s core in an endless ballet.
All the while, the Faithful Morning Glories, pink and yellow, vine along the sand like a hodgepodge of holiday lights.
The salt sits thick upon my skin and hair.
I am baptized in a wave and the horizon melts into carnival colors of pulled taffy in my Watercolor Garden.
It is an iridescent dragon fly purple and blue
It so cleverly hovers over the pond of your brow
It is an agile flyer and can be high or low, come and go
It has life expectancy of a week or so…
This is how I see traces of sorrow
A vivid an electric color, impossible to miss
An aviator like no other, comes from anywhere
This trace may be brief, a week or so…
or maybe no one knows…
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These high school halls are not hallowed halls but they are unsurpassed in the scheme of life lessons….Truth and Fiction …
Remember that boy with the unfortunate eyebrows hurrying down the hall as if afraid or embarrassed? He was.
Remember that girl passing a note to her “steady” guy declaring her undying devotion because he said he “loved” her? He did not.
Remember when you thought a certain friend’s family seemed so perfect? They were not.
The stereo- types still linger in these tales of fiction. Fifty years later and I can name them all by heart.
We all wanted to be (well most of us) to be prettier, cuter, thinner, funnier, taller, shorter, darker, lighter, a better singer, a better dancer, the beauty queen, the sports star, the math genius, or the valedictorian.
I guess it is like the “Breakfast Club” and the “Big Chill” movie all rolled up together. (we did have the best music though). I always felt like the adults in my days of high school tried to minimize the harshness of the unspoken boundaries. There are many people that I admired from afar and would have like to have known better but there was also a nagging burden of exposure.
Ends up that about ninety-nine percent of High School Fiction left some of us hurt and even wounded and that is where reality steps in. No, we had not yet let our tender souls relax in the discovery zone of finding there is no such thing as perfect. How could we know that what lay ahead would require a lot more truth and a little less comparison?
Just saying…
atmosphere of ice and refuse.
this pressures me to think of us.
we said we were “all in.”
we talk about the black or white of Life
the Sunsets on Mars are Blue.
When hardship comes your way, will you tell yourself it’s a tool of God’s grace and a sign of his love, or will you give in to doubting his goodness? Paul Tripp
When the road seems shorter than before.
Wherever you turn there is no open door.
Your life is in convulsions like vomit on the floor.
All the paperwork of your life is yellowed and rotted.
Is the God’s grace of love or is it cruel?
Who do you worship and let rule you?
Will you head for the hills of Babylon?
Look for ways to numb your sorrow?
Will you turn to the One who made you?
Will you cry out and hang on to your pew?
Will you doubt God’s goodness in the dross?
Will you walk away or toward the cross?
Blackbird screaming in the top of a tree, the Sun goes passing by.
A full moon shines at the crossing in the road exposing all the lies.
Good girl hiding in the alley in the night, she’s praying no one sees.
Looking for love in the darkness, now alone, it’ll bring you to your knees.
Our children are riding on the wing of a plane, the want to try to die.
Looking for peace from pain in their lives, they’d rather crash then try.
Poor boy in hell at the top of a bridge, he’s praying he can flying.
He’s looking for love in the water down below, it wasn’t in his daddy’s eyes.
Can this bring us around or does history say we lose,?
Does the Cross mean no one goes to Hell or do we have to choose?
Hope for today and tomorrow in not gone, nor does it fall asleep.
Jesus is waiting for us to seek His face and only there will we find peace.
High desert winter.
White-out blizzard coming soon.
Laura Nyro on my stereo.
She warns me of the heartache coming on.
Wood burning stove keeps me warm.
Laura’s voice does the rest.
We got the blues and got it bad.
Wrapped in my Navaho blanket
Still shivering to my soul.
Sitting on the Henry Bridge watching the river run.
A little boy is skipping river rocks beneath the glitter of the Sun.
Autumn breezes gold and ruby red decorate the beaver’s dam.
A little girl hold her baby doll making sweet life plans.
We belong to the day free to be living in a symphony.
Walking of of the night no more darkness to see.
We belong to the day.
No sorrow left to see.
We belong to the day.
Jill Autrey Dorman 