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’. 

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And She Dances

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Light, robed in fabric

satin-spun with sun-beams,

sways – swirls, extends

muscles and feet

.

in secretive dance

upon stage soft as

silk. Her music is

the subtle sigh of lonesome

.

 

pines, the cadence of

songbirds greeting the

dawn, the rustle of

feathers in flight;

 

she delights in this

moment, this filament of time

hung on summer breeze,

and she dances. Her

.

body melts into

nature’s melody – is

electrified by its pulse,

consumed by its rhythm,

.

choreographed by its

raw emotion. She lets go,

jubilation in every line,

and she dances.

 

 

 

To Catch a Sunbeam

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Now is when you catch a sunbeam

and put it in the pocket of your cut-offs,

storing it for a rainy day. Then, you can

cup it cool on tear-stained palms

and release it into the wild, unleashing

freckled sunshine into the madness

of a world at war with light.

Her Tears

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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.

 

Stained Am I

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Stained am I, and streaked

by this palsy, pollen-spots

falling as table-scraps onto

purity’s napkin. Holy

rain, wash my hands,

my feet, my heart, that

I would bloom beauty

in shades of redemption,

where mercy meets

malfeasance with a

gown white as snow.