Loss
There once was a child in a wood
who said she would love if she could,
but she whistled and prayed
and bare my heart laid
then left me where lonely I stood.
Dabbling In Imagery
Present
Gentle rain—
cleanse me; wash away the darkness
I keep for myself,
Help me to remember the sunshine behind the storm
is still as radiant as ever
and I can cry if I want to:
you won’t mind.
I believe home is neither here nor there
unless I choose to make it so
and hang my rain-filled heart
on thunderclouds and lightning
or sunrise and sunset.
So, I give my soul to the Rainbow Maker—
He’s as much a part of the tempest
as He is the calm that follows,
and only He is sincere enough
to tell me I am still lost
(I am not home yet),
but He loves me anyway.
Heart’s Desire
As you skim along the bridge,
look both ways.
Sometimes by watching
one beauty too long,
you miss the boat.
Never mind.
Traveling beyond the bridge
doesn’t always require
torching it behind you;
some day you may return.
If it takes a while, no matter.
Just keep in mind doubling back
doesn’t have to mean losing track
and there’s no wrong way to
Virginia Beach.
Journeyman
I’ve traveled, yes.
I’ve walked alone under windblown leaves
(so lonely)
and been accompanied by those
who settle me, as windblown leaves do
(so gently)
on green grass fading to brown.
Reasons abound for journeying beyond
(emptiness and heartache)
the boundaries erected against me
and the obstacles I laid for myself;
but what purpose to stay?
Perhaps I have lived
too long in the twilight,
because night is once again
threatening the freedom I so enjoy.
I battle the demons in my dreams,
impatient for the new . . .
. . . Dawn comes,
but not so quickly anymore.