Single Lady Beetle

One single ladybug
upon the petals pink.

Enough to thrill me,
unwrap my childhood glee,
take me back to
pure and natural naïvety;

my hair wrapped up
atop my head messily,
but I feel it fall
into playful pigtails
and hear my childhood
call, giggling.

I am such a nature freak,
perhaps geek.
Probably both.

But it’s been seven years
since I’ve seen one of these,
after having moved to the South.

What a special surprise!
What could I find
to read in the sign?…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Humble and Free

Innately humble,
previously crumbled,
leveled beneath the rubble
of decades of reinforced
word-misuse,
untruths,
I now know,
this self-love journey
continues to unfurl
quite like the protective petals
finally believing
the whispers of the golden
morning light.

I have done more
than bloom:
I have begun the rise.

Saltwater rightfully weathers
tears petrified.
Scars from my past
cannot be erased,
but the open wounds have sealed
and the sting of the waves
I no longer feel,
only the saving
grace.

(Photos of me by my daughter)

Personal Dawn

Cracked blinds,
unwashed windows,
dusty dreamcatcher
mislead;
the sun has finally found
the seed in me.

Resilient Hearts

I am NOT a gardener.
Though a gardener I’ve never tried to be…
Every natural wonder I’ve ever encountered
has been there before me,
remnants from previous tenants’ tastes
and sculptures wild and free
lovingly planted in my path
by the Creator Almighty
and meant at the time of discovery
to be the personal messages needed.

And so it is with my hibiscus pinks,
cut down to the ground by the men
so they could build a fence more easily.
Flowers dear to me for the way they so faithfully
after such meaningful moments took turns blooming
to mark the milestones in my healing,
to commemorate the special blessings,
to symbolize with such humble beauty
the changing seasons within me.

In the soft, golden morning rising sun,
they lift themselves again to greet me.
Not defiantly. Just filled with inspiration.
An example. A reunion. A smiling.
I approach and spend some moments
I do not have according to clock and duty.
The buds seem from an extra-long green
hibernation to be defrosting, thawing.
I know what lies inside. The knowing
denies mystery but does not anticipation-impede.

My heart does indeed too beat again,
my dear friends.
They can never cut short
our aspiring stories.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Offerings

Vulnerable, fragile,
fleeting, yet trusting,
May petals humbly open
to receive Dawn’s blessing,
and I do not take for granted
this holy witnessing:
upon bird wing and song,
Hope’s daily lifting.

Gravitational Falls

We all fall. Sometimes.
It’s inevitable. Natural.
Stumbles and knockouts
along the way.
Bumps and potholes,
from obstacles and pitfalls,
All paved roads, manmade.

No wonder we get lost.
We make through-streets
when we are meant to meander
on foot, following brooks
and the day-star beacon
through the trees.

I believe it lights
a different direction
for each.

Newton’s laws are really
a Universe thing,
term ego-coined by humanity,
but even that which
has no momentum to soar,
has never been granted
the boost or breeze,
seems to fall
with a harder thud
from crawling.

Perhaps the greatest
and most needed fall
is the one to our knees,
when we give it all
up and let Him
take the lead.

Perhaps in that moment
we are granted our wings.

But in that excitement,
will we remember
to fall silent and still
enough to feel our soul’s
gravitational pull?

We can now go anywhere
the heart leads.
This time I will stay away
from the paved
and listen to the whispers
of the wildflowers
and leaves.

I feel your heart
out there
gravitating toward
me.

Cobwebs Between Petals

Ninety-three million miles away,
yet upon the cobwebs of a flower,
Sol’s ray reaches, haloes, frames.

How powerful
that gentle, golden beam is
when it finds and reminds us our
insignificance

is more important and personal
than we think it to be,
for the Creator made sure
the cold and darkness
would always have
returning light and heat.

We are turned away each evening,
in a rotation beyond our control,
perhaps to make possible
the continuous rebirthing
of new-day gratitude and hope,

to make possible these moments
that universally lift up our gazes,
to freeze-frame and coat in gold
these nuggets of humble
beauty appreciation,

like cobwebs on a flower
that still me with revelation:
in the tapestry and labyrinth of life,
we are woven and connected
by hidden common thread,
and love could always,
then and now,
win.

Always Surmountable

We are never trapped,
just fated to faulty perspective,
succumb to specious perception;
it’s all relevant, related –

one more rock-move away
from the light
on the other side
of the avalanche,

one more “wrong” turn
lost in the forest
before hearing
the anabranch…

much is necessarily experienced:

near suffocation sometimes the only way
to motivate a life-saving change,

the legs of the journey
in the humanless woods
lead to the reflection
and feeling of wounds,

and all paths probably have purpose
among the universe’s higher powers.

Without the lonely, looping trails,
we could not emerge anew
with our truest selves

and others we met along the way
not-so-coincidentally placed.

We are never trapped.
We are never lost.
At least not for very long.

No change was ever ignited
without the spark.
So many opportunities
missed, passed up, though
after being gifted matchsticks
but still refusing to start
the fire.

Floral Orbit

It’s hard to decipher
which is me,
which is you,
when we alternate
positions, both always
as one and the gentlest
of blooms.

Sometimes it is the shadows
that give the needed solace;
in tender loving form,
one protectively umbrellas
an ecliptic respite.

We are the same:
each crease in the petal
a similar quondam-
but-unable-to-be-forgotten
story, memory,
that will not become
us,
for our souls’ DNA
seeps from
hearts of gold
and velvet touches,

for all purity
is innocence,
all white efflorescence,
divine;
pollen an offering
to keep seeding time,

and ours is upon the horizon,
finally in sight.
Let’s keep orbiting there,
as each other’s faith and support,
strength, and hope,
floral lifeline.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Gardens Along The Way

Raindrops cling
to Japanese Maple;
Time suspends them
to give way to
Stillness’s held breath…
subtly exhaled
as I pass, as if I were a
royal angel.

Bare feet upon
the cool, smooth stones,
into another potential
garden of myself,
I enter alone,
a blossoming bud
incongruous
with the shibui growth;
humbly, I pause
to reflect,
but recognize this is also not
my home.

I continue on
in the directional tug of
my soul.