New Playlist, Drive Home

Heaven is

The breath before new music.

A pause, anticipation.

A jump

To unexpected.

Heaven feels like

Old, good songs- on repeat.

Repeat my twenties,

Repeat mistakes

Repeat becoming,

Only this time redeemed

(hindsight 20:20)

Heaven becomes the skyline

Sound and sight  

Merging past and present

Anticipation, realization

Relived,

Redefined.

The Red Leaves do Anticipate 

-October 12, 2018

Nature’s beauty, 

Such nearness, so intensely, 

Is Goodness – in a single frame. 

It is well. 

Unreach me to this thought though,  

Perfection

Just beyond the edge, 

Just out of reach. 

Compelled. 

Continuing to consider

Beauty

Truth

Goodness

Love. 

Left behind:

The ache. 

Ah the ache

To consider such things

And come up empty handed. 

Beauty shown in the eye and hidden from the heart. 

Such a leaf, 

A miracle in nature’s game 

Gives first hope

Then nothing more, 

Just a picture 

Of another world

A perfect place, 

Untold. 

Anticipate, 

Rock me awhile, 

Till this waiting game of glimmers 

Shimmers of perfection, 

Is done. 

"Whereas the beautiful is limited, the sublime is limitless, so that the mind in the presence of the sublime, attempting to imagine what it cannot, has pain in the failure but pleasure in contemplating the immensity of the attempt” (Kant)

Suburban Life

My roots go deep
Deep down
Into this strange town.

Tallest trees
Fighting for air to breathe
Pushing for the light.

A pleasant sun,
A graze of grass,
Brilliant.

Hidden secrets
Hotter than the
Stars, submerged.

A flicker of light
On a leaf
Grows

I stand
Arms open,
I receive:

The light.

Three Births.

(inspired by labour, life and redeeming love)

Birth 1 :  Press

The final drop,

Breaths wait,

Life in limbo

Body pressing body

Bones lock,

Unlock

Waiting for

LIFE

to be revealed:

Unexpected pain

Uncharted glory

Everything is at once and a babe in arms.

Birth 2: Persist

This is a planned affair,

A sweet

Race pace

Wild stretches of rage

Tempered by timing,

Hands on shoulder

Child’s pose

Three’s a crowd with

A persistent push

A circle closed, complete by child’s eyes.

Birth 3: Re-birth

A reverse birth

Flesh to spirit

The expectant Mother,

Holy Spirit

Already receiving. 

Rejoicing in the name.

Child of the labour

Giving up the fight

Carried,

Wisked away from touch

Into soft light.

Trying myself on for size,

Feeling the holes in the fabric,

Stretched out, fatally flawed

I can’t find the thread ends to mend the frays. 

I soaked up imperfection when I was four years old

And now it’s dyed the fibres, it just won’t go away.

I’ll stich split ends together

Mend them, make them lend a hand.

A stitch in time for daughters’ arms

A stitch in time for my man.  

I try this sweater on for self

I try it on for them.

And when the garment’s just in place

It’s then the holes come through.

Reach inside the cavities,

Hug me through the holes.

I can’t sew you a new life vest

But I can see you through:

See

Me

Sew

Sew

Me

Through.

A Send Off (moses)

Cut to the chase wind and
Send me off swiftly, for
Tomorrow brings hope cloaked in humdrum.

An infant, I’ve been swaddled,

Cradled on the cusp of

Emotion,

Transformation.

Every step aware

Of edges splitting

The cradle rocking,

Breaking.

In my past lives,

I've crawled along muddy coasts

Crept within receding tides

All the while waiting to stand alone on solid ground-

(Memories beyond the mud elude me).

Stripped of my cradle,

Limbs exposed,

I am new creation,

Sent forth with mild wind.

I falter, failing,

Fear evolves, and

I see grey shadows on the shore

Hope in the fog, a flicker of light.

Storm Awareness

In this moment,
Removed

I am myself-
My
Self

A raindrop
In a storm,

Singular ,
Alone.

I am water,
Raindrop, river, ocean,
Always a self
Flow, River, flow.