In the Grip of Hope

frosty willow sunset

Frost’s bony fingers

Beckon us toward the light,

Remind us of warmth.

Flames of Freedom

burning-trail.jpg

 

Pressure and heat and

the presence of flames

(that deadly hellish

Trinity) made her

kindling temperature

an inevitability. And oh!

the pain,

the raw ooze as fire

tattooed skin; but as she

surrendered, her fear

went up in smoke. Her

selfishness and pride

burned away, searing

suffering soul, until only

true silver remained. Now,

her light is a beacon –

infinity’s fire – a

path of illumination for

others to follow the

Flames of Freedom.

*************************

It’s pretty cool what you can do with a burning stick at a campfire…

Her Tears

parfaitfrost-rain.jpg

 

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.

 

Going for Gold

mountainashgold

Slammed in the deep-freeze,

put on ice and left to dry;

sapless, hopeless, helpless –

until she encounters

the Lord of the Wood.

All winter,

roots have dug in desperation

and found vein.

Hands and heart have swayed in wind

and leaves have leaked,

discarded rainbow offering,

pyrite

cast aside

for something more precious.

Suffering

finds Ore

and as hope oozes,

she’s going for gold…

She Had No Idea

orb

She had no idea she had it in her.

There was no way to measure

colour,

texture,

quality of light

until

she had been frozen,

burned,

eviscerated,

undone.

Now,

on shivering legs,

she takes her first tentative steps

into a newly forged reality.

She will fall, yes.

She will fail

and hurt

and fumble

but

she will be falling on her own terms,

failing and hurting and fumbling

on turf of her own choosing.

The knowledge

draws hues from

secret source within –

an iridescent radiance,

a glow glazed in the suffering place,

a fountain tapping into

the Deep,

and she oozes

hope…