To See, or Not To See

snowy diamonds

Rich

is the soul

whose heart can see

that even life’s coldest path

is sprinkled with

diamonds

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Turning Over a New Leaf

curtains

Pull the drapes on summer past,

Linger long ‘neath autumn’s mast

Where golden sheaves are gathered in,

Thankfulness where pain has been.

The Star Inside

mallow star

 

She cradles her weakness deep,

tenderly touching places

that crisply curl past their prime;

she treasures bent blooms, broken

foliage. When petals lose

their sheen, her soul stirs, shouting

joy in exuberant notes,

song of the ancients who learned

secrets from secret sorrows.

To such spirits as hers, pain

is welcomed as Mentor, friend

whose sage presence sears blossoms

but harvests seeds. Thankful

heart, this, whose troubles have stripped

away the peripheral,

baubles which blocked her brilliance,

kept her from being a star.

 

 

Hold Your Breath

brilliant daylily

 

Hold your breath, you mortals

dressed in borrowed skin; this flesh

is none the wiser for all

its pomp and frenzy, nor more

permanent for all its sheer

transparency. Tread lightly

on this hallowed sphere, ingest

into gossamer lungs this

gossamer oxygen (pale

ribbons, bare hints of spectral

wares weaving life to living)

which seeks to wrap the broken

things with something less broken.

Dare you raise your head into

heaven? Walk in sandaled feet

where bushes quiver with flame?

Romanced, death may yet conquer

all – unless we marry Love

to Chaos, Grace to Weakness;

in that thread of hope-light, flesh

may yet walk in dignity,

skin wrap bare bones in pupal

cases which crackle with life.

Her Tears

parfaitfrost-rain.jpg

 

Her tears have drenched her soul,

burying the hatchet in rivulets

running red, bloody gouges

brimming with magna-cum-laude

.

(degree earned in the school of

hard knocks, awarded posthumously to

the candidate least alive). Only

genuine, soul-stirring mourning could

.

wash away such agony; only

marianas trench could hold

such fathomless suffering –

and yet, forgiveness dyes

.

her bandages as surely as

the sun continues to rise

and set on the just and the

unjust alike. God only knows

.

what it has cost her to forgive.

God only knows what it cost Him

to give her the choice. Tears

cauterise the gashes

.

 

and rise, wave upon wave

as pure as air, a mighty flood

(pregnant with undercurrent)

to wash her to Freedom.