Chain Links

Withering weed
behind chain-link fence
produces the illusion
of being defenseless,

unable to escape
to freedom,
but the thing
about dandelions
is the way God made them,

for big are the dreams
they are charged with,
but it is in their breaking apart
into pieces that launches

these seeds of more
to be rebirthed elsewhere,
carried protectively upon benevolent breeze
and prayer

in different directions
better for us,
for when dead ends surround,
the ways are through
or up,

toward The Light,
and wing-bathed in hope,
blind-ride flight right through
the wide-open holes,

or one cracked window…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Origin

Sometimes miracles happen
in one downpour
of the heavens,
and sometimes it may be
we need to learn
that last lesson…

Tucked within,
regardless,
I have come to believe,
are the nudges and nuggets
that to the origin
of our Created selves
lead and rebirthe
free.

Untitled

We can be nothing,
label-free,
defying definition,
and be
everything.

Come fly
with me,
fear not
the fall;
we never have
to land at all.

We’ll rise,
we’ll dip,
we’ll plummet,
we’ll soar,

sun-singe our wings
and touch
the ocean floor.

Falling Free

Let me be as wild
as a flower
sprouted from a seed
who bravely let go
of the breeze
to be free,
self-planting where
she pleased,
a blooming,
finally-realized
dream.

(I don’t have the photo yet…)

Silent Leaps

They still dance for me
in winter
upon autumn’s
painted, fading
stage:
white petal ballet,

paralleling
my silent leaps
and stubborn faith
in dreams.

The axis piercing
my soul
slows,
and for a moment
I believe

I can pirouette right off
and finally become
free.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

May I?

May I never lose my way
to getting lost,
may I never resist the urge
to leave it all,
may I never shelter my face
from the storm,
may I never let my arms fall
in the downpour,
may I never fully wash off
the grit of the sand,
and may I never be restrained
by clock or human hand.

May I never negotiate with my soul:
may I never let anyone close the window.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Bubble Dreams

Dangerous to dream, I know.
Foolish to fly in a bubble!
Either could burst
without notice,
drop you fast in a plummet
to the hard reality surface.

But what if…

the trajectory was directed
by angels’ breaths
and the bubble made impenetrable,
a shield only able to be
forged from the past,
and you were gently lowered
precisely as intended
by the benevolence
of your higher power
assisting you in the navigation
toward your heart’s
deepest and purest desire?
What if the bubble
met passion’s fire?
And in the ashes
two phoenixes rose
and began new life
and left behind
all the rainbows
found in bubbles?

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)

Sand Blooms

Sunflower in the sand
is what I strive to be,
an example that you can be
whatever you want to be,

that you can bloom
from your own inner seed
wherever you desire,
despite circumstance,
soil-free,

but my wish for you
is that you will come to see
being you
is the best way to be

for all that you are
was gifted lovingly
by the Ultimate Gardener
before your sprouting
that First Spring,

and no amount of saltwater,
though it may sting,
can prevent you
from achieving your dreams

if in yourself,
you simply believe.
You have what it takes
to set your own self
free.

Raise your chin
to the sun and breathe
the winds of change
dusting off your leaves.

Finally found-home rooted
or adventure-husked by the breeze,
flourish in or find
what makes you truly
happy,
what makes your soul
cheerfully
sing,
what makes you blossom most
naturally.

Where It Soars

Freedom of the spirit,

the release of the heart,

lies within us all

in that potential-spark;

beneath the scars,

wrapped in chains,

the whisper persists

guarded by brain,

but only the heart

knows the direction,

can guide the way,

to authentic ever-after.

Hear the fear

to track its source.

Defeat the wraith.

Uncage the heart

and follow where it

soars.