Today and Again

Do you ever have to slow down and find your center? It can take time to remember who you are and for what you are meant. We so easily get lost in chasing the things we need and want and plowing our souls under the toil. Stillness helps us see our persons; music can raise us; reading can picture us; art can show us reason; writing can free us.

We deserve to live creatively and with such love that we feel we can accomplish our hopes and dreams. Some find inspiration in a relationship with Christ Jesus; some follow other paths. As we meet in lives so often hectic, we need to share love and kindness no matter the circumstances in which we exist. Our differences make the world fascinating and rich. We learn much when we open ourselves to one another.

Stepping out of space and time to give ourselves peace to clarify our goals is worthwhile. Sometimes this is done in silence, some creation, some before the eyes of the world. Whatever our method, we must never give up. We are the outworking of the prayers of generations; our promise and purpose must continue.

Today is the moment we grasp; it is our time to build within. Letting it slip through our fingers is not an option—love, love, love. We should be a blessing in whatever places life carries us. Time and again, we can begin a better beginning, for we are living gifts.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan.

Plying Forms

The broken bottle
Lying in an amber spill,
The stools toppled like
Memories of a cherished past;
Who were we, thinking love lasts?

The music was such,
Bright magic in which we could play,
Until we forgot
We were only mortal too,
Disassociating us.

I said, “I love you,”
Because I have, always will.
You answered, “I know,”
And that is the reason, dear,
We were never together.

In the eaves lie leaves
Scattered, plastered like these dreams
Only echoing;
Waste to be driven away
Discarded on barren ground.

Sometimes I write us like a new thing as if we shine diamond bright. In reality, we were the stolen pleasure of a season, a forever consisting of only a few love drunk nights. The dust, rust, tarnish gather as the moments further recede into the emptiness of history.

I have hidden all
There remains of my power
But more battles come;
I will not whimper, beaten,
I shall don my armor, sword.

Walking toward what
Defines this deviant hour,
Ready to exclaim,
“The past fades into distance,
Our present embraces a change.”

Your touch sends ripples,
Sensation through my body,
After so long, much.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan