A Leaf to Turn

burnt edge

Life has hurt you; I can see

The scars from where you’ve burned –

If you’ll let go, that frailty

Could be a leaf to turn.

For something new to grow again

Where only wounds have bloomed,

The old must drop; there, space obtained,

Spring’s vigor can resume.

So say good-bye to autumn’s jaws,

To fronds aglow with strife;

For after Winter’s healing pause,

Your soul will burst to life.

 

 

 

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Then You Walked By

march-iceHe was desert.

I, so thirsty, swallowed sand

Until I mummified.

He was iceberg.

I, so frozen, craved his warmth

Til all was numb inside.

Then You walked by –

Waterfalls and rip-tide seas

That made these cracked lips burn.

Summer Sunburst

Melted rivers, carved new clefts,

Uncovered long-dead urns.

And oh! the pain

As figments of sandcastles

Collapsed beneath my toes.

And oh! the ache

As Light revealed the chaos

I’d buried deep with snow.

You are water.

I, so thirsty, drink You in,

Til my cup overflows.

You are Sunshine.

I, so frozen, snuggle deep,

And Your arms hold me close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

Of Words and Water

Jan Lake duck2

Freedom forms feathers –

Rows and rows standing at attention,

Roman Legionnaires linked with their brothers,

Trained to repel any onslaught;

For,

Knowing my true worth,

Your words

Drip,

Bead,

Drop,

Puddle around me.

And I, like the duck,

Am not wet.

 

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.

Wrinkles

apricot daylily

Her heart of hearts records the pain,

Places where deep scars remain;

Damaged tissues bear the strain,

Warped and twisted soul.

Kissed by Light, and coaxed by rain,

Wounded places bloom again,

Every scar croons fresh refrain –

Wrinkles make her whole.