In the Grip of Hope

frosty willow sunset

Frost’s bony fingers

Beckon us toward the light,

Remind us of warmth.

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Lift

canopy

 

Unless I lift my lowered gaze,

I’ll miss the Beauty in my days –

Remain attached to lowly sod,

Where lowly caterpillars plod.

But if I lift my thoughts above,

Forever seek the path of love,

My heart will rise on golden wings,

Accomplishing much brighter things.

The Journey

 

Boulton Bridge trail forest

Sometimes the path I walk upon

is bathed in golden sun,

Meanders through bright meadows

Where pure streams of water run.

Sometimes a fog obscures the view,

And rocks and thorns prevail,

The gradient makes progress slow,

Or rings with rain and hail.

Both are crucial to my road,

Both must have their place –

To one, I owe refreshment,

The other, strength and grace.

So whether I am stepping light

Or struggling as I roam,

I know each bend and every climb

Will bring me closer home.

Prison Break

shinyicicles.jpg

 

One day sun will melt the bars,

Open doors and mend the scars,

Free your spirit from your chains –

Winter’s just the labour pains.

Shine On

frosty sunflower

 

Shine on, little one,

though your petals crack 

with cold and icy 

shivers lick hungry

at your tender throat.

*

Shine on when Arctic

winds whisper white lies,

slanderous icebergs

distorting your image,

warping your purpose.

*

Shine on when frosty

tentacles deaden

pulse, sluggish sap-drips

creeping in dead-end

veins, maze of the damned.

*

Shine on despite cold

that hounds, ferocious

predator alert 

for signs of weakness,

patient for the kill.

*

For your name is Light.

Your breath blooms as warm 

sunbeams. You were born

to spin straw into

gold; so shine, shine on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Great Reversal

frosty trellis

 

Where once a green and virile vine

Twined its length upon your frame,

Frost has thrust his hoary head,

Icy claws have staked their claim.

*

Do not lose hope as Winter’s grip

Sinks fangs of doom into your heart;

Where once his frozen work remained,

Spring’s greenery will grow her art.

 

 

Underneath

peeling.jpg

 

Excruciating, this exfoliation,

this blistering in the heat

of battle.

Defenceless,

skin peels,

flayed offal,

diseased dandruff

powdering slumped

shoulders.

Let it go.

Let it

fall

kissed

by

gravity,

one with

the grave. For

unless dead skin cells

are scrubbed off –

loofah of life –

regeneration

cannot build life,

caress fresh complexion

with rosebuds.

This is but the

paring,

the shucking of

detritus. Your real and true

lie

underneath…