Poet. Writer. Photographer.
When drowning in the desert,
I make my own oasis
to anchor my hope upon
’til tame becomes the tempest.
I know the weather patterns,
just not when the wells will dry,
but when they do, I’ll resurrect my heart
from its protected burial site.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Unedited after-storm sky,
heavens open up
as if to apologize
for the tribulation
necessarily survived,
though still withheld
must be the why.
Instilled with a knowing
a higher power so loving
is in control when I spin
in my free will off trajectory,
I simply pause all the swirling
emotional turbulence within
and feel the wind,
the exhale of the one above,
mighty breath on my skin;
my hair and soul lift up,
and I wish my feet would.
Grounded on this earth for now;
let me master all the lessons.
There is nothing but comfort
in the after-storm sky,
a sojourn wrapped in serenity,
a glimpse of afterlife.
tears dry
like rain subsides
weather a part of nature
designed with intent
by our Creator
feelings, emotions
love and joy
despair and heartache
all part of what
deems us alive
would you trade it all in
for numbness instead?
if you already did
what could bring you back
from the breathing-dead?
perhaps a lot of it
comes from our own doing
and neglect
how many times we must
get in the way of His plans!
His plans for each
never carved in stone
I do not believe
for fate takes away free will
and free will shackles and frees
these pains must too
have a purpose
maybe more than a force
forming us
these tragedies…
who is to say
the why until
it is revealed one day
it is the blind eye
that is turned
rather than the cheek
that I think each
must explain
for admittance
through the gates
will He play back the footage
what will He deem as the highlights
will they match with what we think
we’ve done to please with our lives?
tears dry
like rain subsides
even the sky
cries sometimes
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Sometimes we must firmly
grip the sand
instead of merely wishing
to be carried to shore.
Sometimes it is best
to escape through the window
rather than open
either door.
Sometimes when the photo album
has so many empty pages,
it’s time coloring the sickness yellow
since it can’t fade non-faces.
Sometimes in the dark wood
instead of striking tear-soaked matches,
we must look up for the beacon
of light through the branches.
Sometimes from the cliff of depression
instead of digging our nails in,
we must be willing to release our grip
and reach for the offered hand.
Sometimes for a while longer,
it’s good to remain on our knees,
but He cannot help us rise
if we let lie His gifted bravery.
Sometimes when we grip the sand
and claw our way to beach,
we complain it’s the wrong island
and forget we were just
drowning in the deep.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Every heart goes through seasons;
every soul sometimes dims.
Spring isn’t meant to be eternal;
shadows may need to become friends.
Pain cannot be avoided,
but heartache need not break us;
When the last leaf falls,
it’s the tree’s self-preservation.
Winter brings delicate beauty
to those possessing appreciation.
Some blessings bloom brightly;
others require effortful observation.
Fragile flowers sometimes get pelted
by heavy winds and torrential downpours;
sometimes a petal falls, is lost,
but the stalk outlasts the storms.
My heart too
like yours
encounters these same seasons;
we need not expend the emotional energy
keeping up such false appearances.
Nature threads and laces,
weaves together and connects,
my heart with yours and his and hers
on this together shared planet.
The divinity of creation
surrounds our grounded souls,
beckoning us to be open to receiving
the healing powers it bestows.
I took my battered heart
to the altar of the sun
and laid it before my Lord
to mend once more what had come undone.
He repaired it whole
and adorned it with even more,
kissed my bowed head
and sent blessings nonstop forth.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
A timeless moment
that stills me deeply,
sunset silhouette,
peace seeps into me.
Ripples on the bay,
nature’s palette,
a silent messenger
negates all of it.
Beauty is always present,
serenity an exercise,
hope still floats
and rises.
Heart-sensors
extra sensitive,
picking up mixed signals
of every human emotion,
eyes brim with
unidentified sadness
but do not spill over,
for tears that mix
simultaneously with
happiness
get recalled to the cauldron
to start over
in the feelings-concoction,
stirred not by hand
but all that I am,
have been through,
have yet to see,
and the substance
that holds it
all together
in the center
comes from the faith
I feel
He has
in me.
I am transforming
into exactly who
I was always
going to
be,
still a mystery
to me.
Lord, keep making me
an instrument
of Your peace.
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is error, the truth;
Where there is doubt, the faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled, as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
The sky matches my moods today:
confused,
swirling with lights and darks
rising and sinking
simultaneously
like the sun
and moon,
clouds bright with hope,
the linings that I focus on
amidst the showers and storms,
not able to grasp
these morphing, clouded
emotions,
so I walk on.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
My roots, my veins,
my soular capillaries,
every inner
and immeasurable
part of my being
craves, thirsts, seeks
the quenching
that only feelings bring,
for to feel
is life
as well as the meaning.
I choose to only feed
from now on
on the good and happy things,
so move me,
sky, flowers, trees,
friend, lover, hobbies;
let me drink in
that life
that fills me beyond
capacity,
keep my feelers tingling,
my colors bleeding,
never let me be defeated
by a drought
of feeling
alive.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Laura Denise 