Interspace

The heart becomes a wilderness,
The trees are bare, left bereft
As Winter falls cold and colder
I, no longer bold, grow older,
Your footsteps make no sound, echo,
On the leaf-strewn path, receding.
I wonder at myself left bleeding,
Trying more to bide believing,
But cannot know if your anger –
Was an outburst or soulful season,
Shall we again together have reason
To celebrate the who we are
Or risk space come between us afar.

Short Shrift

A vast ocean flows
Within reaching for others
But it overwhelms, drowns,
With dying optimism
When rejected and alone.

Come lovely sweet one
Come here now, let me adore
You, my dear, blessing.

What I know, believe,
Is turned to all of nothing
Without, I love you.

Life runs quick along,
Carries us forward without
Giving permission.

Never taken down
Into places much desired;
The surface remains.

Head held up, above,
The drowning cascades, flowing,
From the abandon,
Blood meets bone, such evidence,
A heart let be entertained.

Hopes, a cycle dashed –
While allowing settlement,
Engagement released.

It is the last of calm before the oncoming Holidays. Now is the time to get some writing, creativity in before busyness intrudes. Haiku and tanka will not overtax you. So there is your prompt. Good fortune to you all.

Insight

We go here and there
Doing this and that fine thing
But getting nowhere.

To Tell The Tale

You may be able
To live within the fable,
But a fantasy
Can leave you cold in the night
When love moves out of sight.
Empty icy sheets
May feel like a shroud, a cheat,
Taking forever
Away on a wind clever
Enough to sing you goodbye.
Fickle fate has eyes
Seeing through this thin disguise
Telling me, “Be wise,
Some waiting is worth the times,
To claim the gorgeous vision
Just beyond the curtained eyes.”
You are a hard one
To guide around barriers
But will merrier
Be for time expended on
Becoming love’s forever home.
So until you share
A pleasant trace, who you are,
I will stay right here,
As my heartache keeps singing.

Faded Roses

The flowers began as a wistful dream of a bountiful harvest, but once cut from the bushes and placed within a vase, they began to fade and crumble—a falling off begun because the blooms were separated from their source.

Nothing living can long survive without nurture. So much depends on tender care. In this life with its challenges, desperation, distractions, doubts, fears, being connected to a network of people who love us is essential.

In this time of isolation, we must find realistic ways to rally our spirits in whatever togetherness we can devise. We need safety zones to engage in conversation without masks and where we can give hugs freely.

We would be negligent to disregard the needs of those who are most vulnerable, but even they need the reassurance of beloved faces and physical touch.

It has been an exceedingly difficult year, but we can help others bloom and remind each one that even in a shadow season, the Lord is present. God will eventually clear the clouds away, and the beauty of humanity’s promise will shine as newly minted gold.