Staggering in boot wise
Through a warm doorway
Enormous and puny with grace
I measure myself
By snowflakes, heavenly stars
On Christmas mittens
Now red with tears
Image credit: Madison Inouye (Pexels); linked to dVerse MTB:zen poetry)
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: This week our topic is Shadows and reflections. Be creative if you feel like it, and fun with this challenge this week. Remember your photos need to be black and white, desaturated, sepia (brown tones) or selective color.
A moon drop tear
turned into marble,
my heart to stone.
Slaves lost their dreams
To build mine a tomb
Doubly doomed by the chilly moon.
Buy your tickets
Bring your cameras too
It’s a wonder of the world
What fools will do.
I will see cherry blossoms today
dancing lightly in the April breeze
crenellated puffs of softest pink
jostling, welcoming, anticipating
meetings under the arch-browed branches:
where petals scamper round the feet
of once deplete, now wealthy hearts surfeit
with delight not won, but given
in sweet abandon from the Lord of heaven:
and sweet angel, I will think of you.
In the midst of suffering, grief, pain, and loss, the hope of glory we have through Christ Jesus is our sustaining grace. One day we shall see with our own eyes our Redeemer, when with the beloved ones we are reunited with, we shall hear “every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying,
‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!'” (Rev. 5:13, ESV)What a glorious day that will be!
The Light that Passed and Shone Forever (348 Words)
Some people will tell you that when you lose someone, you grieve and move on. They tell you, and rightfully so, that the loved one who passed would not want to see you sad. They would want to see you as they knew you, living and alive. But if you have ever truly loved, and if you have lost, how can you not miss the one you will never see in this world again? How can your soul not be shaken by a separation so sudden, so wrong?
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She was mute all her life.
Though she spoke words
In dumb agony of reproach
Rage-built torment of unredeemed
Days past when deeds were done wrong
And wounds like serpent bites
Had devoured her tongue
Leaving voiceless fury, unsung tears
Among goaded offspring
Of jealous hate
Where a child of flesh
Fed on milky vinegar
Beneath her ravaged gaze
Hears mute anger
In jagged commands
And runs joylessly to the sound
Of her voice.
Dreams from a Pilgrimage 