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

Advertisements

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.

 

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.

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’. 

The Sower

babylettuce.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These blades,

Guillotine to slice flesh

From bone, shred all semblance of comfort.

This rack,

Gears ground like teeth on edge,

Stretch faith beyond breaking.

 

Suffering gouges, disembowels,

Carves furrows upon her aching heart,

Divides the sheep and the goats

Into messy eviscerated piles.

 

The Sower scatters – dignified, purposeful.

Seeds cling with new tenacity

To scars, places where faith

That bleeds replaces stone.

They fall into gaping wounds,

Freshly ploughed soil

Where germination reigns.