In the Eyes of It All

photo of person covered with brown textile

Photo by Noelle Otto

 

I don’t know where you went when you left me.

I have to believe you were sure you had to leave.

People always seem to have to be, have to go, have to hear what someone else has said.

The Truth running away like a spool of thread.

Still, I remember it felt like drowning in a rip tide.

There is a sadness in the end, in the eyes of it all.

I am much the stronger for it but I don’t wait for your call.

A Mom

high angle photo of woman on ladder

Photo by Samantha Garrote 

A mother is a 100 percent flawed human being who was allowed to have part in a unique way in another human beings life. Not every mom loved it, wanted it or succeeded at it. Some moms are sick. Some moms are wounded or abused. Some are driven by a secret or a demon. Some dreamed of being moms since they could talk, others did not. Some are natural at it (whatever that means). Some of us live, eat, and breathe it. Some of us enjoy every moment except maybe the fatigue! Some are fulfilled. Some are not. Some of us fail (ed) at it. Some are not biological Moms but are mothering anyway.


The Truth is most of us didn’t know what we were in for. For me being mom was more than I ever dreamed. It set me “right”. It makes me want to be a better person than I am. Motherhood gives me unspeakable joy and to be honest when it hurts it is the most painful experience. This holiday called Mother’s Day is not good or bad. It is a societal invention. That’s okay. If you are a mom this holiday and you enjoy it that is honorable. If this day brings you pain or grief this is honorable as well. We all must make our peace with our moms and with our children. Moms count in the billions. Moms are not a political agenda or a consumer product. Moms are people who love and want to be loved and fail or succeed depending upon the day or the moment of any given day. I am in the club. I wouldn’t change that. I have no regrets. To all the moms out there…let’s be kind to each other.

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.

Tipping Day

a person with foot up in the air

Photo by João 

 

The sun has slanted across the sky

thoughts scroll through my mind then fly

That precise sliver in time

 

The see-saw is tipping to the down side

I slam and am jolted by the sand in my eyes

Suddenly a week seems like a lifetime

 

I know I never really controlled my world

The lie in my head where I thought I was safe

but being found in Christ I am not forsaken.

 

 

 

Emmet

green grass during sunset

Photo by Nathan Cowley

 

The daybreak drizzle has moved out to sea.

The dawning clouds are steel gray.

The wind is about 10 knots up from the Gulf Stream.

Nations have risen and fallen, two world wars, more political unrest, man has gone to the moon and the World Wide Web has come along, but nothing much has changed on this little wedge of the island.

The tide goes in and out.

The gulls and cranes still swoop and dive and the dolphin still dance. The beautiful gold sea oats continue to hold the sand dunes together…
But now you… have been born!

Your little smile, your hands and feet have changed everything.

I cannot smile without you.

There are very few words of wisdom I will give you as you grow up and let me into your world of sticks, and bugs, and rocks.

You will sleep the sleep of the blessed each night and when I get the chance I will tuck you in.

What I will do my grandson is love you. Love you unconditionally with all of my being and spirit.

Long after I am gone I will still watch over you and love you with a love that has no end.

The daybreak is clearer now, the sea breeze cleansing. The wars and internet have no meaning to me now.

The tide is a beautiful dance and all of God’s creatures perform just for you.

The sand dunes are for you to climb and my whole world is golden.

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!

 

 

 

 

 

Home

people sitting on the edge of a cliff

Photo by Angelo Duranti

Her passion is tender.

Her pain is massive.

Her mind is lithe and quick.

Her body is no longer as swift.

 

Her temple once was a house of cards,

built by her birth, her fear, and her works.

Now she stands on the rock called Jesus

careful to follow him with her cross.

 

A new temple foundation built,

she is sure of this The Holy One.

He makes all things new with his Holy breath,

and will lead her in both life and death…

Home.

Fear and Faith

man walking on the empty street

Photo by Alex Fu

Even in the darkness I cannot hide from you…

When my fear whispers that I will not be able to cope

that I will never make it out of this hole…

Faith tells me my Father knows what I need

The Father who keeps filling me with his strength

and just in time He supplies all the Holy Light

that I need to battle through this dark night…

I raise my head from my prayer and I see Jesus kneeling there 

The Light of the world has prevailed and no earthly power can keep me from His care…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inner City Poet

photography of person walking on road

Photo by Leo Cardelli

I heard a story ’bout a poet who gave himself away

The inner city was his canvas with no color in his dreams

He was a wanderin’ grifter but no one knows for sure

It is said he still wanders ’round downtown at local bars

 

This City is a hard place and it stings when North winds blow

It shows no mercy to the poor child with no where else to go

I heard a story ’bout a poet who sang his songs for all the lost

Then he set himself on fire to warm them from the chillin’ frost

 

The  children who roam the Night Streets tell the story of a man

called the Inner City Poet who comes each night to tuck them in

Inside their cardboard boxes they lay there heads upon the ground

and the wanderer sings them lullabies ’til morning comes around

Just between you and me

vintage black windmill during sunset

Photo by Tom Swinnen

 

What I’m trying to say is we could not have known

The life we made, the trials we have and will face

Nobody else can say they know because they don’t.

 

A step down a path, an opened door is the mystery future and past

A sorrow, a joy, a mistake, a right of choice or not

Between us we live it, two people together alone

 

Like an ancient windmill, a sentry watching it all unfold

Lying down in a field of tulips in the country side

Just between you and me it’s a beautiful work of art