writing

Getting older…

/ jill autrey dorman

sunset sun horizon priroda

My body is softer now. My skin has begun to drape like crepe paper. I do not have to wear glasses to read  but I do to drive. I hope to gracefully age for my daughters, although a lot of my friends have had “work done” and while it is tempting, it is not me. I was voted “most like Mary Ann on Gilligan’s island” at a class reunion once. I like that title and will keep that as a compliment (I can’t pull off Ginger for sure) but I still color  my hair. Just can not take the gray yet graceful or not.
Walking purposefully and briskly until death. I  long to finish my life well. I do not  know what lies ahead. I navigate and then I wait. I try to stay in the moment. I try to continue to grow. The alternative is death.
I know real Continue reading →

The Hourglass

/ jill autrey dorman

 

clear glass with red sand grainer

Your Mama knew I loved you boy

before you ever did see.

She said I have a poet’s soul

I thought no one could see.

 

 

I guess I always loved you boy

though I never really knew.

When we’re young and wild

It’s a wonder that we do.

 

 

Where did all the time go boy

sand through the hourglass?

Young love they say is magic

just like splendor in the grass.

from all that is broken…

/ jill autrey dorman
administration american flag country daylight

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

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

A bloodied and battered Benediction

/ jill autrey dorman

 

hand full of blood

A  silent prayer to the close of night

bloodied and battered in the morning light

No more walls or secret places

ashes to the wind  from trash to Grace…

 

The ribbons of sadness all broken away

Redemption’s song the melody of the day

I will  meet you at the road and the sky

over the edge I will let my spirit fly…

 

Turn my mourning into dancing

I clap my hands with the rocks and tree

The Benediction to the new day coming

a wedding feast for my Beloved and me…

 

 

 

 

 

I tried to make it Sunday…

/ jill autrey dorman / 1 Comment

landscape vacation people clouds

 

Well I tried to make it Sunday

but that ocean tide came calling

I stopped on the way for some Tupelo honey

just know my soul needs healing…

 

My Angels have grown older now

though they do not tire of my journey

they bring comfort to my soul

they guard me in my worry…

 

There are no words needing to be spoken

there is no darkness I cannot face

I will sit beside the ocean blue

and for a time it will be a resting place…

I know I’m not saying anything new…

/ jill autrey dorman

art business close up decor

 

I feel I am my best self when I write. To portray life as it is as well as it should or could be. I suppose that is what a painter feels as well or a dancer, a sculptor…

Writing brings me a contentment in the moment not feeding the future or regretting the past. Sometimes when I hear or read  a string of words together my ears perk up like when the wind whispers in them.

I know that I’m not saying anything new but for me writing feels like the process of the sea’s relentless movement or the running river water as they both over time smooth the sharp edges off of broken glass or a  rock and reshape them into something beautiful to behold.

I know most things never change but to attempt to express a feeling or fragrance or a picture using words is my passion.

Here is an example of what I am saying…

Wisteria grew along the weathered splintered gray fence that had long been forgotten. The fragrance of the wisteria permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are for there-in  lies treasure in the pleasure and the pain…

I feel a story coming on…to be continued I hope.

 

Holy face

/ jill autrey dorman

  • abstract beach bright clouds

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

  • No one can look into your face, yet you let us stand in the Holy Place
  • Oh how amazing to be present with you while the world spits in your face.
  • One minute we doubt you and next on our knees we beg Your mercy and grace
  • Amazing love, the old hymn sings, oh how can it be?
  • What do I know of your Holy face, yet you let me think I do?
  • When least deserved your presence and light come shining through
  • How I long to be in your heaven with you until all your love I know
  • Amazing love, the old hymn sings, on how can it be?

 

Rachmones, the Hebrew word…

/ jill autrey dorman
silhouette of pregnant standing on seashore during golden hour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(“Rachmones”:this is a Hebrew word for womb…It is the definition of a compassion as deep and as undeniable as what a mother feels for her child). A little set up for the journal essay below…love you and your family.

 

I got up very early on Sunday morning and sat on a bench in the park…I wondered what it would be like to leave my Christian self and shrug off the garment of My Lord’s bloody cloak. I remember standing up and bowing to my knees. The stillness and holiness of that place brought to my mind the word’s “Lord have mercy… “Chrieste eleison.” Then I thought of the former life I had shed because of Christ and how he had withheld his anger from me and has shown me His Mercy. The Yiddish word for Mercy is “rachmones”, whose root is “rechem” the Hebrew word for womb.

 

Myself being a mother and now a grandmother I am sure once again that God is my father and my mother, the silent mother of mercy, if you will. In his transcendence He is not limited in any way. I know that I could no sooner cease being a Christian then I can cease being me…So I picked up my bloody cloak of Jesus Christ and put it back on gladly. I pray that if anyone sees anything at all the rest of my life it will be God, the silent mother of Mercy, Rachmones.

Silver Lanterns

/ jill autrey dorman

beach candle candlelight close up

 

So brilliant now the sunlit skies

that old sweet blindness passing by

A woman-child knows fruitless times

all dressed up in lace and rhymes…

 

Let silver lanterns lead the days

Of ones who journey through the ages

To nurture wildness is to be wise

Let silver lanterns by our guide.