Seen and Heard

catherine-woodbury2

I see you, girl with the anxious eyes.

I notice all your secret sighs;

You cannot hide yourself; I see

The pain you hide from all but Me.

I hear you, girl with the silent words.

You think your prayers rise up unheard;

Your laughter masks your heart’s true song;

I sing it out from dusk to dawn.

I know you, girl with the secret soul.

I feel your longing to be whole;

Designed for beauty from the start,

I know your every cell by heart.

I love you, girl who feels no love,

Whose spirit cries she’s not enough;

So, since on earth you were not free,

I brought you home to live with Me.

In memory of Kristy

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Upon the Road

dusty-sunset

When darkness hides the way, You are light;

When fog obscures the path, You are sight.

When storm clouds surge and wail, You are calm;

When thunder pounds out fear, You are psalm.

When chaos clutches tight, You are care;

Though valleys lead me deep, You are there.

So every place I step, I’ll bring You –

For You, O Gentle Shepherd, lead me through.

 

 

 

 

You Are Sky

vortex-sunset

You are sky,

canvas kaleidoscope

mysterious and dangerous.

I stare fascinated,

drawn by your glory,

terrified of your ferocity,

your untamed wild.

You are sunrise and rainbow,

hurricane and eye –

unpredictable and beautiful,

Beauty and Beast.

Your face reflects my own,

scrapes at places long-buried,

calls forth daybreak

from the ashes of darkness.

You smile and I dance.

You groan and I tremble,

labour beneath your tears and sighs.

You are sky,

too grand to be boxed,

too magnificent to be tamed,

and I love you.

 

 

Let It Fall

bare

Lay them down, let them slip

From bone-white anxious fingertips –

These pseudo-hues, these not-true-yous,

The ways in which you daily choose

To dress your soul in binary,

Faux your skin in finery;

When fiction’s tarnish falls away,

When forgery is let decay,

Your backbone rises plumb-line strong,

Authentic in its truest song.

So let it fall, remove that shell –

You’re beautiful au naturel.

 

 

 

The Beauty in the Mess

ruffles macro

Within each crease, beneath each scar, and etched in every vein

Her petals form a tale alive with hope carved out of pain;

Though deeply marred, disfigured, torn, her beauty proves to me

The choice to bloom despite her wounds is what has set her free.

I read within imperfect folds a novel penned by grace,

For harshest hurts transformed, redeemed, become the very place

Where subtle hues and fragile scent, those glories forged by stress,

Release our truest, highest self – the beauty in the mess.

 

 

Epilogue

Jan Lake burnt blueberries

Out of the fire, something to eat,

Out of the chaos, something sweet;

As sure as the sunrise from darkness is torn,

After the heartache, Hope is reborn.

****

My husband and I stumbled across a delightful blueberry patch growing in an area devastated by fire. What a delicious promise that the very things in life that distress and challenge us can be the beginning of something beautiful and fruitful  – if we will allow them to transform us.