She Leaves

She leaves me breathless as my hand caressess her side.

I listen to her song of beauty that she sings without pride.

Passing people look and wonder~seeing the man and the tree.

In prayer and in gratitude, I listen and am aware of what I see.

The Spirit that speaks to my heart declares the change of each season

As I pay attention to her open wounds that bleed,  I recognize the reason

like her now for me it is expressed in the same love and gratitude that she shows

It may seem she lives without a purpose to be drawn to the LIGHT in order to grow

But the wisdom she has is her obedience to live to the fullest in her joy, we fail to grasp or see

She digs her roots into the earth and raises her hands in the air and dances with the divine, her gift is what she leaves

The Lord’s Table

 

 

 

I AM like art upon the table where I AM fashioned and placed

created, formed, blessed and fixed in my time and space.

Some may think we have a freedom of will.

Because what lover of life would wish us ill?

So to this table I AM forced to live,

to scrub, wash, serve and give.

Shatter my ego Creator,

make me anew,

part of you!

CAN YOU SEE THE LIGHT?

We assume GOD never changes as long as our understanding of GOD supports our theology and ways of living life.

We want GOD as a protector, steadfast, rock-solid, memorable, strong, knowable…therefore

(clouded by my ego) I can see the
need of us~ (humanity)~ to protect our own projections of GOD.

OK, It could be
my ego projecting this too!

Maybe I AM in need of a change

or I can remain chained

to my beliefs

in

GOD

Where does the light in the picture get its power?

 

The light of faith seems so simple and free

like turning on the switch under the canopy

it illuminates and shines; brightening our day

giving form to our paths, lighting our way;

instead we question the reality of simplicity

contemplating connections of electricity

if we turn the switch off; we may discover

we don’t control the light under the cover

 

 

Among the folds~

From between the folds of passion and once discovered pain;

brought on by the thorns from which my blood is drained.

Oh shear beauty  of visual love that seems empty without aroma

the smell of her, a delight my heart of sin induced for coma

shadows of the pedals whose form like blood only remind

my desire which I cannot fill, the yearning in my heart and my mind

While the fires of passion consume the rose; it will soon die

leaving stem, thorns, the addiction of wanting the lie~

Thoughts from my life; after watching the movie: ~ The Help ~

“Carrie”

The tears that flowed freely down her ebony cheeks;                                                                                                                                                        mingled with water of the Pepsi bottle sprinkler that leaked                                                                                                

Both falling upon the wrinkled white shirt to give it crease                                                                                                                                                      tears from watching her “Soap” someone was deceased

Yet keeping with the rhythm of the iron as she pressed                                                                                                                                                               not  stopping her task even with her heart distressed                                                                                     

Just as if she knew or could hear some distant drum                                                                                                                                                               She raised her voice in song from her once melodious hum

From her chariots swinging low to her sweet by and bys;                                                                                                                                                           tears glistening on her cheeks that fell from her eyes

her simple wisdom was love which gave my heart a turn                                                                                                                                                             a lesson from which this four year old boy did learn

Her task though seemingly dutiful or if obligation may be used
was a blessing for this little white boy so as not to be confused                                                                             

I loved hearing her sing those songs, but the one thing I will hold in my heart
when ironing shirts, Carrie used her tears mixed with water instead of using starch

Putrefaction

 

 

As dancing fairies skip among the circles of life we awaken to the wisdom of being

This circle of eternity and life starts at both ends working toward the middle.  It expands in changeless ways the paradox of BEING verses KNOWING.

In the
beginning with ONE

NOW those
participating feeling separate

in eternity
we return to ONE

the beginning
of the circle

Thrown upon my path!

I discovered this small acorn on the road as I walked my path,  as if God had used God’s hand in which to cast this nut (myself included); from the seed to the tree, and from death to life; I like this symbol must allow God to work with my shadow in order for it to move into the light; As if God did throw me upon the trail of tears that I took; or even if I in my own need did see God’s hand in the midst of my faith  illuded.  I am choosing to be aware of that reality even if it is an illusion of life lived here; through it all I have discovered the emptiness surrounded by the shell to be a part of what God has called me to be and to hold dear.  So I welcomed the wisdom of this acorn as a sign for growth.  I willingly allow the seasons of the divine to change me into the mighty oak that I can be; even if it demands that I allow the nutiness of my form to die upon the path where I was tossed.  I will trust and surrender!

 

 

Living Simply

 

living simply means simply living,

taking each moment for what it is

recognizing the divine paint brush

is sweeping with love and delight!

The Elk

the yearning from his heart is heard in his beaconed call;

alas the emptiness remains as the season changes into fall

but he has hope because he returns to the herd of his belonging

he goes from this field to the one that is true to his longing

he is heading home, back to the ones who welcome his cry

the path he has chosen is the noble one; of life rather than to die