Fearful Things

death is not a fearful thing

it is the balance

the counter weight to life

one without the other

would be very hard to comprehend

grief is not a fearful thing

it is the balance

the counter weight to bliss

beautiful in it’s own way

allowing pain and joy to exist

simultaneously

numbness is sometimes a scary thing

sometimes a day’s blessing

allowing the soul quiet rest

an emotional nap, if you will

today is not numb

today is not tired

today is feeling

feeling is not a fearful thing

it can be daunting

difficult messy swaths

but within it lies healing

it is where bliss hides

 

 

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Grey Hills

lights residing in the window frame

giving themselves up to grey

leaden sky seeking pillars of heart

strings strummed

silent notes shivering through still air

bring love home

calling to the wind

bring home revelation

singing into morning

may we heal these bones

hearts expelling destruction

shadows becoming friends once more

 

 

Personal

once upon a time

a child broken slowly

into shards

gently crammed into a cup

bouquet of jagged edges

swirling behind the smooth porcelain

lifetimes passed

each age adding tar and stars

binding the fragments

into an illusion of stability

delicate container grew into a pot

big, safe with a spout to pour out tidbits

self to give to everybody else

once upon a moment

the smallest, biggest thing

from the inside

explosive conflagration

leaving nothing but dust

sparkling, settling, drifting

shaking fingers covered

weeping mouth silent with shock

then there were more hands

palms upturned to catch the fallout

to capture the tears cascade

gently folding the one into the other

clay created in the desert

laid at at dirty feet

a new vessel made

discoveries joy

elation’s fingerprints left

imprinted with love

wholly put together

cracks remained

healed with silver and blood

ink and mud

beautiful all the same

Last Night

Last night

other’s pain rekindled my own

pushing on old scars

from many,many years ago

Last night

I cried as the scab peeled off

for me and them

and found pink skin, delicate and soft

Last night

I knew yet again

that pain is learning

without it no healing can begin

Last night

you stayed with me

to make sure I was ok

it was precious, coloring today

my new day

Victory

once upon a time

the girl with eyes the color of the sea

stood

looking at an ocean of desert

standing

aura of red about her form

two storms rolled in

they crashed like waves into each other

directly above her

she stood in the winds

soul snapping like a cape in the warmth

face upturned to receive what drops of rain would come

then she danced

spinning, undulating, flickering

like the half moon through clouds

leaving traceries of red against the night

powdery dust crept up he legs

her arms embraced the sky

and when the storms passed

all their passion spent

she lay in the desert

smiling at the sky

playing with the stars

Workin It Out

fly thattaway way

awkward sharp distressed

words not at their best

perfection is not sought

peace is not bought

found in soft small moments

heard in offhand comments

new chapters arise

happy faces even after goodbyes

sunshine calls

open air enthralls

edges smoothed sanded out

vulnerability makes fine grained gout

fight the soul fight

sleep sweetly tomorrow night