Posted on 11/24/2003 9:52:48 AM PST by January24th
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peace
has no
place
nor end
sing
pause
sing
Recycled from last year. Hope no one minds...
A Holiday
no longer
Holy
still points
to miracles,
birth
and rebirth,
presents
and Presence.
A Holiday
spent
consumed
carted, crated
and tagged,
straightens its crown,
looks into
a dark stable
of dubious shelter
not understanding
but
not doubting
the brilliant
Mind that pointed
to the
unfathomable
Breath of Heaven--
soft as baby's sigh
hard as Truth
old as Hope...
...and kneels
I do remember this and am glad to see it reappear. It reminds me that some of us should write more. But thanks for opening the doors and keeping the light on.
flurries guess
at the winter dark
waiting windows
temperatures approach
certainty,
abide in warm.
post it notes
marginal
remarks placed
upon papers pasted
in unsticky glue
to remind
those who
can't remember
their place
so noted!
:)
post-it note
memories
jotted moments to remember
but not hold onto
i may need this touch--this smile...
carry it with me
a while--
or display it where it
can remind me
of something important
enough to keep
before my eyes...
but never commit it
to permanance
lest it become archived
and lost in the crush of life.
and yet my heart
has a chamber filled
with such fleeting
notes of moment
caderno
as moças
nos vestidos
da solidão
levantam-se já
ao amanhecer
e sonhos
conseguidos
nas páginas
do algodão
There are so many scenes of devastation from the tsunami. It has been heartbreaking to see some of the pictures and read the stories. a brief thought.
Silence rings the world
sent out to meet itself
between land and sea
and raises its pale moment
across the breach
of certainty.
in the reaches
it covers all, both the wary
and the unaware in its
sweep of brief victory,
leaving weepless eyes
that cannot comprehend,
cracking the heart
that asks why,
but heart and eyes
defy the silent
sentry of destruction
our falted hearts
shift and break
and send our
tears
into the flood
that beats against
our fragile structure,
for all, we grieve.
Oh, I could...
yes,
wrap a blanket
of warm words from a
long-lost lover
to hold fast against the
cold stillness
in my heart
and warm myself
with sentences-
soothe my soul
with syllables of solace...
but for tonight
I will shiver in reality
inure myself to perceived comforts
of words, however fiery with passion.
and endure the loveless winter, she,
a cold hearted sister to
summer's warm eternal promises
whispered in maddening moments
when we chose to not know better.
I live a life
of abject adjectives
surrounded by
precarious prepositions
placed just so
alliteration
is a monument
without
a moment
i say it here
and it echoes
there
still
it echoes
with me
sighs
are moments
that deserve
proper monuments
to sit atop their ironies
like an english army
she writes
rum brave
save
when she faces
tomorrow
the well-learned ensign
recruits
subordinate desires
for the fray
while watching
safely from the shadows
the colorful
silence
of sunrise
is just
the jest
of lesser
worlds
awaiting
our opinion
the gods
count
a woman's
tears
I've read that
God saves all
our tears in a bottle
but i confess i know not
what
He needs them for...
they seem a dreadful currency
with which to turn sorrow into dancing,
and a dubious apothecary
for wounded spirits--
and yet He finds them
precious
enough
to keep
against some unknown day
when their power
to soften hard hearts
may well soften our own
and save us yet
Some try to make sense of tragedy
and God just invests tears
into some eternal accounting
that we're not privvy to.
I guess I'm a pan-theist
as I believe it will all
pan out
in the end.
:o)
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