Seen and Heard

catherine-woodbury2

I see you, girl with the anxious eyes.

I notice all your secret sighs;

You cannot hide yourself; I see

The pain you hide from all but Me.

I hear you, girl with the silent words.

You think your prayers rise up unheard;

Your laughter masks your heart’s true song;

I sing it out from dusk to dawn.

I know you, girl with the secret soul.

I feel your longing to be whole;

Designed for beauty from the start,

I know your every cell by heart.

I love you, girl who feels no love,

Whose spirit cries she’s not enough;

So, since on earth you were not free,

I brought you home to live with Me.

In memory of Kristy

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Wire

taut wire

Below,

ink slimes its black

and worms trails

in souls with words

scratched indelible,

pithy as coal

Above

oxygen breathes colour

and swims in silky

tides billowing,

angels in tow

while

Between,

I

stretched taut,

frayed wire hung

from precipitous

mantle, reach

for what

is mine

In the Breaking Place

rudbeckia bud

 

She raises weary hands high,

knowing that if she aims for

heaven, she just might touch God.

.

Tendons stretch beyond breaking

point, in the places  where pain

collides with grace; she feels buds

.

Tear and in the ripping, birth

laughs at the Fall, defies this

gravitational downward

.

Spiral, dictatorial

dead-weight. Thirsty soul seeks sun

and in the breaking place, blooms.

 

 

 

Stretch

rudbeckia-up.jpg

 

I catch a glimpse

of heaven

from here on the ground

where mortals fear

to tread, and

the audacity of it,

the wild blue abandonment

of its proclamation

gives me the courage

I will need

to stretch out these

broken wings

and fly…

Keyhole To Heaven

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I stand on childhood’s

tiptoes and the oxygen

in my lungs is stillborn

in its stall as I peer through

.

the keyhole to heaven;

all is angels’ wings

and perfume and

brightness and I squirm

.

to reach just a sliver higher.

I strain with broken grip

and limping spirit and

if I shift too much the

.

vision fades and the scent

eludes, wisp snatched by

wayward breeze. So I

peer through the keyhole

.

and feel the brush of angels

in flight and linger to

catch the smell of home

before I lower myself

.

to my side of the door,

waiting, ever waiting

for someone to turn

the key.

.

Free

daylilybud.jpg

 

When ageing tent is laid aside,

my truest bloom will burst from husk

and, far from laws of earthen tide,

my heart won’t fade into the dusk

but blossom strong, by Love’s design,

free of pest and storm’s alarm;

to my best purposes, aligned,

free to flower, free from harm.