Peace Of Plank

“Whatcha doin’?” my teacher friend across the outdoor space between our classroom doors says, popping her head out.

“Just capturing poems I’ve passed by,” I say, still hunched over close to the sandy ground just before school started. “You know.”

I captured the wildflower oasis and the non-fool’s gold recently but have since discovered the plank in the magical world beneath our giant steps…

Peace of Plank

I wish I could have been afforded 
the plank
instead of all the times
each “he” just yanked 
my never-grounded footing 
away,
the sharks
themselves. 
The plank
in the desert
beneath me now,
still 
symbolic of how
we can feel so nudged 
toward the apparent 
doom to drown,
prisoners and victims
until the spell 
is unbound
and we are able to see
that the moat 
was always
a mirage,
and we always 
possessed 
the power
to simply 
step 
off 
into the safety of our 
selves,
trusting God 
would never 
let us 
down,
and if we ever did
get pushed into the deep, 
what He personally pre-planted within us each
would be all 
the buoyancy
we need. 

Proverbs 3:5-6

5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
    and do not lean on your own understanding.
6 In all your ways acknowledge him,
    and he will make straight your paths.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Different Rays

The sunrises are always mine,
the only ego I condone;
not only do my bones and soul
need to behold them alone,

I do believe the diurnal gift
for each witness is tailored,
different rays crafted
by Divinity’s fingers
and personally delivered,

and sometimes meant
to be received twice,
once live and another
to lift from within
when the timing is later
for an even greater purpose
right.

It resurrected again
today at three to remind
that it was always meant to be
mine.

Suffice

Artificial light
will suffice
when I employ
on quiet walks
my creative devices
to make art
during heart-
survival crises

until it all naturally passes,
as all weather is designed to do;
I need to do better with storm preparations,
though He always sees ahead and sees me 
through.

Tonight, to distract
with creative play,
I replace and extend
a stem with manmade

until the flower becomes a tower,
and then I ignite the beacon,
and let the moon console 
a lonely orb romantic-dreaming.

I do these magnificent things
not only to take focus away from the pain 
but because it gives me the control and power 
as an abuse-survivor to manipulate 
in a positive way. 

I do it for you, but really and also 
for me, selfishly, 
but if you and I both need it, 
how comforting it then becomes for us
to become “we.” 

You’ve been here too, 
I know, as I have been there, 
not these same tracks
but in the aches that echo,
shared. 

I Remember You

I remember you…
cute dresses,
bright eyes
up and ahead,
sun-kissed tresses, 
shades of smiles
genuine,
wonder and hope
and appreciation,
giving, giving, 
car conversations
with Him, 
up, up
chin, 
letting others in, 
learning to break
patterns
to protect
from theft
what’s mine
within.

I remember you,
am returning now,
will keep on the journey 
toward the true
and beautiful
Daughter, self.

Thank you, Lord, for the friends who saw me through it with You (again)…

Scrapbooking

Split-rail fences,
wildflowers,
clouds and moon,
and golden hours,

cuddly pets,
pajama days,
all things cinnamon,
autumn ablaze,

friends’ hugs,
hugs in general,
generations working
on jigsaw puzzle,

chai latte,
tea in fancy china,
every sunrise,
29:11 of Jeremiah,

daughter blossoming
and other such miracles,
like the way you let him show me
Your love, unconditional…

these but a few
of my favorite things
I fill my album
with to keep
the good in me
to offset the pain
until I finally find
my way home again.

Juryless

Nothing I can do or say,
no amount of love,
can faze the victim
of the self
while he is being Judge –

condemning, sentencing,
self-shackling to disgust,
the mirror of my eyes
that hold the truth,
and all this evidence,

falls upon deaf ears –
the abused,
too far gone…

All I can do is wait
patiently
until the trial’s done.

It’s hard
to accept being helpless
while keeping it separate
from not being enough,

but I’ve met
Depression personally
and know he’s
other-world…

At the back of the courtroom,
I stay knelt
and keep praying with faith to
our shared God,

and when you
recognize me
and are ready,
I’ll take you home,
my sweet love.

Immersing in Moments

Later, soon, tomorrow…
always risky
putting off
what the heart
longs to sing,
to say…
our lights, eternal,
but earthtime measured
in sand and dust
and strings Atropos cuts,
footprints tide-washed away.
So let’s stop
and sit awhile,
my friend.
How have you been?
Kettle whistles,
Columbian grounds,
deep sofa,
phones down.
Let’s wrap ourselves
in the comfort
of the softest colors
of love,
quilting our story.

Let’s stay too long.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise