Resilience Defined

snowflakes

Ripped from a watery womb,

You were sentenced to wander aimless at Evaporation’s whim.

Jostled into raucous crowds of strangers

And rejected by every cloud you ever knew,

You’ve been muddied, stepped on,

Swallowed,

Ejected as waste.

Your compulsion for lower ground has bound you to wander,

Ever wander, homeless,

Crying for the sea.

Cruel winds have driven you, harried –

You have fed hurricanes and blizzards from time’s birth.

Do you hold your memories close

On cold nights

As you wait on this snowbank

For your next reincarnation?

For

No matter how you are pressed,

You rise again,

Reinvent yourself.

Your DNA hasn’t changed

Since Creation

But your relentless pursuit

Of Life

Will outlive us all.

 

 

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Grip of Gold

foggy-grasses

Golden are her tawny tresses,

Golden are her thoughts of late;

Gold her dreams of greener dresses –

Dipped in gold, her dreams await

Days of golden-sunshined splendour,

Tucked neath golden afternoons;

Patient, she will guard her golden

Songs as hope sings gilded tunes.

In the Middle Part

story

It started well – the action’s pace

And characters behaved.

The dialogue was natural,

Each scene what reader craved.

The villain entered right on cue,

But there, the thickened plot

Unravelled all the ends at once,

Derailed your train of thought.

You turn the pages, heart in throat,

Each word spells tragedy;

The flyleaf didn’t caution you,

Predict your destiny.

The Witches charm, Deep Evil lurks,

The Wrong upsets the right;

The Bad Guys go from Worse to Foul,

And Dark absorbs all light.

Anxiety hits fevered pitch,

But each word you devour

Reveals more loathsome characters,

Or strips you of your power.

In anguish, trembling fingers clutch

The closure that’s been penned;

You must, you must, you must find out

What happens in the end.

But oh, dear reader, pause a while,

Breathe every phrase in peace;

You’re only in the middle part,

Where havoc is released.

Your anxious soul would skip this bit,

To save your heart from harm –

But if you skim this episode,

You’ll miss your story’s charm.

The overthrow of villainy,

The chains that break in time,

Heroic actions, victories

That kill each awful crime.

So slow it down and read each word,

Your story is not done;

This chapter is not you, my friend –

Your best is yet to come.

Her Battle

Black Eye

Life has its way of blackening eyes.

Courage paints beauty where hardship resides;

Deep within tissues most damaged by pain,

Faith breeds the strength that will rise up again.

This lily variety is called ‘Black Eye’. 

The Novelist

Princess Purple

Hers is a beauty of eloquent pen,

Trilogies etched with a holy amen;

Fragile and humble, she offers her soul,

Teardrops her parchment, resilience her scroll.