The Word
A firm rock
A solid stepping stone.
It lifts me, to see more.
I peek just over the wall.
A place to settle.
To sit and rest from the noise
My home.
I take warmth in refuge.
My doorway to beyond...
More of You, more of me.
My gateway to light and truth.
I walk through and see.
My river to life,
To drink from, to wade in, to swim!
My raft.
The vessel that carries me.
My rock.
To hold me and lift me up
The place I find rest, light, and life!
The place I find You.
Written July 2020
Mrs. Tree
Old, rugged, worn.
How long have you been there, Mrs. Tree?
You stand so tall, so very stable.
As new growth climbs and entwines,
encircling itself in and around you.
You seem untouched. Firmly fixed.
What have you heard, Mrs. Tree?
The comings and the goings of life.
The laughter, tears, cries and triumphs.
Building up all around you.
Breaking down, falls and rubble.
Days and years passing.
Have you felt the sadness?
Or, rejoiced in the triumph?
Have you felt the frustrations?
Have you pondered or considered why?
How long have you watched as your friends,
your neighbours are destroyed?
What have you seen?
Generations come and go.
Littles run around your feet,
Aged rest in your shadow.
The young carve their hearts' intentions.
Who has noticed you?
Old and new.
Ancient and aged being replaced.
Yet, you remain still.
Years after years.
What was, is no more.
What is, will always be.
How many winds have run through your branches,
How many rains have rustled your leaves,
torn and tugged at you... made you dance?
Do you worship while you sway?
Do you know the hands and mind that made you?
Do you 'laugh at the days to come'?
How long will you be there, Mrs. Tree?
My time will have come and long gone by, I am certain.
Yet, there you are. Old, worn and rough.
Steadfast and sturdy.
With 'strength and dignity'.
There you will be.
Written July 2020
Proverbs 31
"For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people" Isaiah 65:22
Rubrics
Colour on a page
Do you know what it is?
These easy going, even fun...
Grace-filled criteria.
Rubrics in place.
to judge
to know.
And, yet,
Yet, even the colour is not bright
...enough.
Not muted enough.
Not smooth
...enough.
Not well textured or blended...
...
My very existence
My every. moment. of. every. day
Not enough.
Falls short.
Do I know what it is?
A splash of colour on the page.
This day.
This being.
Me.
Written June 2020
Reminds me of this post I wrote in 2019
This Old House
This old house---
Same old house
Same smells and sights.
Corners and walls
So familiar.
The wallpaper needs changing---updating.
No, actually, the foundation.
Pull up the floor boards!
Rot underneath. Rip them out!
Rebuild with lapis and turquoise.
A foundation laid and layered with faults and cracks
Burn it down!
Start again!
Sounds of shifting sand echo and warn.
This house will fall!
But, alas! the land is secure.
This rickety structure was built on a rock which is firm.
Faithful. Steadfast.
Before the foundations of the earth,
hesed was. Hesed always is.
Yes! Mold and mildew may lurk deep within these old walls.
Disease lingers.
Pour over with the cleansing water and ash.
With hyssop, scarlet and cedarwood,
Clean this old house!
Written June 2020
Leviticus 14
Isaiah 54:11,12
I watch for you each evening.
Waiting and wondering.
Like a child longing for dessert,
When is dinner time over?
How many peas must I eat first?
I anticipate.
I wonder and wait...
when will the dark become
dark enough!
Enough to reveal your glory.
Each night I see a different sight
A new shade and perspective.
Light reflected, revealed, radiating.
Or tonight... covered, shroud, hidden.
Yesterday's dusk brought deep, dark clouds
Across my vista, shadows swept thick with movement
Dense with a heaviness that slowed their race overhead.
Each step they took across the sky laboured.
I waited. I watched.
Wondering if I would see you when these dark ones parted.
As the clouds trudged through the murk of the evening sky
I wanted...
Willing just one glimpse...
One quick view of your face.
For I knew you were there.
Even if hidden.
You are always there.
Positioned there long ago,
you remain.
Not yet shaken, always firm in place.
I know you are there.
Now, I watch for you every evening.
Written June 2020
...reminds me of this post from March 2012
Meaning...less or full
One, two, three, four... seven days.
The ebb and flow of the days as they merge together into a week,
Each day unique, but intertwined and to be joined.
One, two, ...
One day full of light and life.
Eyes see. Ears hear.
Hearts awake and connected.
Laughter and dance trickle through.
Then a shift. A flow.
Dark rushes into the next...
Two, three, four...
Light seems hard to find.
Blind or blank stares.
Fingernails on a chalkboard.
Distance and frustration.
The walls feel close. The air thin.
The boundaries unstable.
The ebb of light.
The flow of darkness.
Three, four, five
One day full, the next empty.
How have I been, you ask?
Seven days...
Conflux of emotions make one week.
Can happy and sad live in the same week? The very same day?
Solomon called each day "hevel"
A vapour. A breath.
There is a time for everything...
Highs and lows.
One week recedes and retreats.
Swirls and surges.
Intertwined. Merging together...
One, two, three, four...
Written May 2020
Conflict
It frightens me.
The rumblings below,
The feelings of heat.
Radiating, pulsing.
Am I aware first?
Or am I frightened by what may come?
Low tones,
Eyes darkened,
Brows tight.
My whole body responds.
It frightens me.
Tension and heat rise up
I want it to stop.
Just stop.
Cover it over.
Run away and hide.
Rumbling, quick, stilted, purposeful staccato words.
Tears pool deep, well below my eyeline.
Tension fills.
Heat rises in my neck.
It frightens me.
Written May 2020
To See and Hear
There are sounds and sights
I never did see.
Missed wisps, lost colour,
All passed by with movement and noise.
I paint these moments every day, He says.
I ring these bells and sing this song each evening.
So many. …no, most...
Most miss the wisps of colour,
the sights and sounds of My love.
May 2020
