Perhaps the storms
are simply meant to rouse our inner empowerment, faraway rumbles culminating into the now, waking from hibernation the reminder of the how, for fate is passive sitting ducks, and destiny the arms in the winds resurrecting the self up, believing in the achieving part of dreams, rousing the soul to with that single bird, despite the conditions, sing. I dance in the rain, and the bird wishes it were me; we chat about exchanging wings and feet but decide each are intentionally meant to propel, and here we are together celebrating freedom from cage and cell.
tide ebbs, changing, hiding, revealing the edges of division. I watch the transitions, half dream-drifting, half paying detail-attention. Always thinking. I ponder on the ebb and flow, how one takes and the other gives in its rhythmic dance to and fro and how taking can also be giving, and giving be taking, and for each, the difference is in the seeking and releasing. We send bottled messages afloat, hopeful for its accurate delivery and offer what we desire for burial at sea; we collect treasures and look for clues from gods and mermaids Destiny-strewn. I notice in the wet sand in between surf’s blanketing, a secret passageway, a ladder to dreams,
unless, of course,
it’s an evil illusion, a detour or trap set by opposing forces. I wonder how much is serendipity and divine intervention verses taking control and free will’s actions, if choosing the evanescent option not on the maps is a test of fortitude or foolish brassiness. Another option, nonetheless, is presented: two piers to walk, but only one may have no end.
Poem and images by Laura Denise
fades from focus as the miniature shell-bridge draws me closer and gets me thinking… about what we extend in our reach to connect, and what we retract when we fear-react, and all that’s gained and lost from the taking and passing of chance, from the courage to not or to act, and how far the distance can be misjudged from perspective, and in the grand scheme of things, how important it is, and how often we miss and what we learn when we look up or bow our heads to discern the difference. Poem and image ©LauraDenise
I thought I saw a glimpse
of angel wings
with one tear clinging,
or maybe it was my imagination
or my dream
realized, or so I thought,
for in that fleeting brush and drop,
crystal ball of truths;
I write my own future,
and sometimes the signs
are only meant to be
in the listening of the vision
that flutters when the white wings whisper, pay
ironically when I turn quickly,
when I come to find
yet to be
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Little tree on the mountaintop
beneath sun’s celestial reach, planted purposely at the very peak or actively advancing toward dreams from a seed, more mighty to me than the mountain itself and all of the tallest trees beneath looking up. Little tree on the mountaintop Biblically reminiscent, perhaps a Jesus story never told, or the Lord’s seemingly futile reach to have us remember this precious given life’s goals. Who is changed upon the descent from the mountain? Some things seem to remain as shocking as Moses’.
Blue skies seem sometimes
behind us too far, and when the oasis of nearness dissipates into illusion yet again, we dangerously tire, as the colors of hope fade like sidewalk chalk in the rain, and we drift without care into the storm. But as long as there are forks and bends in the paths and roads, what-ifs and depends, Fate can only temporarily take hostages, for choice and circumstance and weather will permit the opportunities to change direction over and over again; only lack of faith can lead to the false perception of dead-ends. Sometimes when we are too weary to drive, another takes the wheel: sometimes God, sometimes Satan, sometimes someone who loves you still. Poem and images ©LauraDenise
When I pray,
I always add the addendum, “…if it is in accordance with Your plan,” for more than what I plea for, superseded, I wish for us to remain always in His hands.
I trust whatever may happen,
although I may not understand, will come with a needed lesson, a necessary occurrence in the process of the destiny in becoming once again
who I am.
I was reminded of this
when a partial wishie lent further wisdom for reflection.
Sometimes the biggest wishes
should not be spent, eyes closed, all at once, in one breath and direction
spaced out in seeds, part self-initiated action, part angel-breath breezes.
Sometimes what we desire most
needs time to germinate to non-perfection and be released in parts for better chances of fruitful multiplication.
I am always careful
in what I wish and pray for: I don’t want to get in the way of what He has in store.
I try not to be
too cautious in taking action with soulful instinct, for the surest way to get lost is to pass up what He hands me. I do close my eyes to bring up a whisper from my soul that launches another seed of hope…
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
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
If sunflowers can
root themselves in sand to choose the sea, so can I morph into myself and choose my own destiny.
Words and images ©LauraDenise
Trust in the shadows;
they are benevolent too, dimming the wrong ways so the beacon may shine through.
Listen for the truth;
it whispers faithfully through the gale. Turn your back to the blustery lies; the bitterest of winds best fill the sails.
You don’t need a map
for an evacuation route; just follow the signs He’s already laid out.
He knows all,
including what’s up ahead. Listen for The Light; drown out the ghost voices haunting your head.
You took the steps.
You left that land. These turbulent waters will lead to the end
of that decades-long storm
that shredded every kite you raised that lightning struck on its way down to reiterate that you will never be freed from this fate.
But fate was a falsity
and now you will know that destiny is all within your control, and He wants you to have all your heart desires. He will lead you there through these uncharted waters,
but He wants your hands
on the tiller to feel the power you have that He instills.
He calls upon the winds
and every fin in the sea to escort you on your voyage to your chosen dreams.
Poems and photos ©LauraDenise