To See, or Not To See

snowy diamonds

Rich

is the soul

whose heart can see

that even life’s coldest path

is sprinkled with

diamonds

Shipwrecked

sandy treasures

It wasn’t until her fingers ached with the holding

that she stumbled upon what her heart most craved.

Recasting flotsam into jetsam proved complex –

each snippet and stub, accumulation of a misspent life,

ingrown toenails like colonized barnacles on a heartless hull.

Which to discard?

Where to lay it down?

Her broken treasures had put down diseased roots,

fusing flesh to failure, marrying captain to ship.

Scraping at the splinters, mutiny of the highest order,

was pain more exquisite than the requisite lashes.

But unimaginable riches winked on the sand

and sang Siren notes pure and sweet,

daring surrender, demanding an answer.

Her cries of agony crashed like breakers

as her keel cracked wide;

sea air seared skin freshly exposed to the elements

while baubles trickled to the sand,

frothing like the surf.

Layer upon layer,

all, all became Crusoe to her perfect storm,

her tears lost at sea

with the pounding of her chest

as freedom stirred chains.

At last,

trembling,

spent,

she knelt on bloodied knees

before the pearl of great price

with all she had left –

empty hands.

If It’s Treasure You’re After

frostysoccernet.jpg

If it’s treasure you’re after,

‘X’ always marks the spot;

the places where push shoves

and rubber smears the road

and frost-feathers freeze

are inexorably painting a bull’s-eye

on your soul.

Twenty paces shy of normal,

30 leagues under tumultuous seas,

the secrets of Life’s Map

are only drawn out under duress.

So cheer, Mate!

When troubles broil

and problems are plenty,

your treasure is multiplying –

with interest.

The Offering

Reverent blossoms, bowing low

Painted with prayerful brush

Gathered on pew-seats, just as though

Worshipping, grave and lush.

Each comes up empty, pockets raked

As off’ring plate is passed

But gives of itself, its beauty slaked

In finding true treasure at last.

This garden brimming with hydrangeas was one of our stops when a heart-friend hosted a long-overdue visit.   The blooms and scents captured my imagination completely.   Here, in my mind’s eye, the hydrangeas are finding that giving themselves to the world and their Creator is a greater act of worship than any they could give.  Flowers do give of themselves unreservedly, whether anyone is watching or not.  A lovely life lesson indeed…