Gratitude

golden ninebark

Gratitude glows gold –

Leaves unfurled from graceful trees,

Glory grown within

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Seasonal Psychology

sunsetdrift.jpg

Confusion reigns, an

Identity disorder;

Spring thinks she’s Winter

Crowned by Thorns

Crowned by thorns of golden spokes,

cruel barbs, a case in point –

keeping others at arm’s length,

resentful, noses out of joint;

rapiers high, you stand on guard,

covering heart with spines of steel,

hoisted on your own petard,

you’ve forgotten how to feel.

Rest in Me

When your way grows weary, and your heart grows sore,

When your spirit gets bashed onto distant shore,

When you know in your soul you can’t walk anymore,

Rest in Me.

When your feet get splintered by the road you tread,

When the tasks on your list fill your mind with dread,

When you can’t escape rounding the merry-go-sped,

Rest in Me.

Pyjama Hopes

Another evening,

another night

in pyjama hopes

waiting with bated breath

for the measured step

that will not come.

Which friend should she call this time?

Which bar?

These ‘listening waits ‘tear the years from her heart

and add them unceremoniously to her face

where angry crows stamp them into place.

How long has she lived

listening, waiting?

And still her Prince does not come.

A new thought jolts her upright –

is she waiting for the wrong thing?

Will Life creep by while she

listens for fairy dust?

Perhaps the sound of  Freedom

is no different from her heartbeat.

Perhaps bated breath

is better spent on

the Living.

Every Now and Then

Every now and then,

I have a moment of true clarity.

The skies,

tortured by winds and

tormented by funnel clouds

which have lingered for days, weeks, months, years –

who can keep track of life’s sorrows in a stretch? –

have kept my mind soggy and my heart drenched,

sodden with mud and flecked with hail.

But

every now and then,

the skin of this world is peeled away,

my cataracts slip,

and I can see

blue and tranquil, cloudless and calm;

and I remember that

I am not alone here,

I am not forsaken,

mine is a road worth travelling.

I am loved.

I am called

and justified

and more than a conqueror.

Every now and then,

I breathe oxygenated hope

and what is more real than my reality

bursts through a hole in the heavens

and infuses me with

courage,

strength,

dignity,

value,

and I get up out of the drenching place

and walk tall and free.

I know that

soon,

I will be living more in the then than now,

more in the healed than the hurt,

more in the living than the dead.

And every now and then,

I see…