Where Beauty Sprouts

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You hate the cracks, the places where the pain has split you through;

You don the mask, and paint the scars, and smile when spoken to –

And yet, the Dark that pinned you down, that swore you’d never win,

Forgot that all the holes, when healed, will let the Light shine in…

Set down the script, rewrite the lines, take up your truest role;

What tried to kill and steal and lie cannot destroy your soul.

Those cracks, those scars, those broken bones, those spots where pain leaked out

When warmed by sun, and earth, and rain – they’re where your beauty sprouts.

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Today She’s Finally Letting Go

Today she’s finally letting go,

She’ll give her past the slip;

Regrets like raindrops gently flow

From empty fingertips.

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Hefty while she clutched them tight,

These burdens, weightless, slide;

Regarded from her newfound height,

She fancies they were lies.

Foot Fetish

autumn resting place

Rest, the road exacts its Toll,

Take a load off wearied sole;

Close your eyes and breathe Life in,

Reflect on where your feet have been.

Confident, they marched with ease;

Terrified, ‘neath shaking knees

They stumbled on when doubtful days

Blocked e’en hope’s most brilliant rays.

Pause, let wand’ring feet sit still,

Exhale deep, let lungs refill;

Slow your pace, take time to stroll,

Rest is good for every sole.

I, Rapunzel

Rapunzel

I, Rapunzel, clutched the tighter to my golden mane;

You, the wooer, prince and fighter, struggled to unchain

All those strands that held me captive to the distant past;

Strangled hopes and maladaptive dreams I had amassed

Like treasure chests with broken stocks, reduced by time to rust;

Death had killed my golden locks, and crumbled them to dust.

‘Let down your hair!’ your battle cry resounded in the dark;

But tendons tightened, terrified of barren branches; stark

My thoughts, unclothed my heart, as hope dared warm my blood;

One by one upon the start, and then a torrent flood

Descended in a golden cloud, until I stood unveiled –

Beneath my feet, a golden shroud, where former visions paled.

And now I wait, a bare-skinned maid, my Prince has won me fair;

For with the spring, I’ll grow new braids, fresh dreams will crown my hair.

Released

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Released from the tomb, from the Winter which froze you,

Freed from the Dark, from the fears which enclosed you,

Raised from the earth, from the cells that opposed you,

Green with the gleam of creation;

Vanquish this shell, this mere skin that confined you,

Stretch past the trials that sought to unbind you,

Run to your Saviour, whose heart bled to find you,

Fly toward heaven’s ovation.

My heart aches tonight, but I know that you are in the Presence of perfect Love at last, and that I cannot begrudge you, my sweet friend…

In memory of Marcy Payne

 

 

 

 

ReMolt

skin

It wasn’t the stranger in her skin

but the skin she didn’t own;

the mirror lied to her for years

in countenance unknown.

But when she learned her truest self

was trapped beneath that skin,

she stretched her soul and slipped it off,

re-molted genuine.