Still Life

Still as silhouetted dragonfly wings
is all that used to swirl restlessly in me.
I hold my breath and so does the breeze;
we both stop time for centuries. 

The secrets from the ancient flier 
can only be imparted in complete silence;
any ripple in the universe jeopardizes
this which is rarely achievable in this life. 

Perhaps this is my umpteenth time… 

I recently had a supreme spiritual moment;
not now, but when I was again freshly broke open,
my soul exposed again to worldly poisons 
and decades-rotten ingested false notions.

It is only in these complete ruptures, it seems, 
can the bad get out and God restitch the seams. 
Perhaps it is true that the rock bottoms are needed
to unclench the fist and open the palm for receiving.

I was mended with light again by His own loving hand.
And inside me, this time, another something planted. 
I feel it in the silhouetted dragonfly wings suspended, 
except I think it is me that it and the breeze are sensing. 

I feel our connectedness, 
the same serenity seeds inside of us. 
It’s hard to go back to the way it was
when gratitude, which I’ve always had, 
are blooms in such surplus shooting up. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Mission Depletion

Overcasting the heart,
the plagued cloud
drew color and life;
eruption ensued,
torn from the burst
deep inside.
The salt rained
on the open wounds.
The gray swooped in, 
attempted final ruin. 

But a survivor returned
from his own
near entombment,
kissed petal lips
to restore the hues, 

and love rushed in again
to ignite the blooms,
imbued with goodness
the only truth.

The excess overflowed,
flooded the world,
infused each connecting branch,
bled the colors to combat 
all hopelessness. 

The gray cloud retreated.
Only depression was depleted. 

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love. (1 John 4:7-8)

We love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:19)

There Is No Fear

There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love.

(1 John 4:18)

To have no fear in love
is to have total faith, 
but sometimes my heart leaks, 
so exquisitely, I feel
the break.

When the darkness comes
and I feel alone, 
I must always hang on
and trust
you will find your way back
home;

even when I am certain
I have ruined His plan,
I must believe He’ll mend it
once again. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Little Tree On The Mountaintop

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’. 

Tears Dry (With Audio)

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

Remembering Colors

Inner chamber protected, 
guarded. Scarred. 
Misused and abused
before. 
Colors over decades
fade. 
Doors and windows
boarded. 

The softness of you
like dawn. 
Patience watercolors
shared canvas in pastels.
Gradually, I reach 
to try some,
apply upon my soft shell. 

Day by day, ébauche
to a never-final coat.
Overflowing well within
now self-saturates. 
Self-love’s ducts
unclogged.
A Master peace of love:
brought together, 
soulmates. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Final Light

Night disintegrates 
in the middle,
as the final white light
pierces:
noiseless epistle. 

All
fall
still, 
some through the trap door:
one prophesy fulfilled. 

Approaching the light,
limited time, 
shadows evaporating:
Truth’s combine. 

Back of the line
moving quickly forward.
Eyes widen:
final bipartisan border. 
  
So many hands raised. 
Some bargaining in pleas, 
some opening to receive. 

Regrets’ final drowning
in bucket lists,
all possessions vaporized 
into ash and lint. 

This is it. 

Approaching The Light, 
limited time. 
If He speaks, 
what will you
reply?…. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Dynamic Art

The things we edit…

When it comes to my photography, editing to me is not perfecting, so I suppose I should call it altering; it is transforming creatively the tone, literarily, though that often comes from color changes, cooling or warming, fading or imbuing, really a canvas with my technology as the brush, though you would be surprised with the media I use, an old iPhone about to give out and whatever standard editing app it came with.

My lab is my mind’s eye in reverse, creating what my soul wishes to express, I but a medium myself. I play until the aha moment, always knowing that is exactly what I was looking for. Each starting photo, a message itself I collect from nature. Sometimes it speaks as is, especially when it is lit. Sometimes it lends itself, whispers, “Do with me what you may, May Child; my metamorphism is in your trusted hands. Make me the more you believe I am.”

Sometimes I feel the nature challenges me in this way to keep going beyond and beyond, rebirthing new ways, not godlike, but godchildlike, spending my days attune to the spirit in the petals and breezes, in the rays and the blades, in the insect and the web. I create with images I creatively capture, crouched down and over the barely noticed, shrinking further than Alice into the macroworld, still infused with wonder, perhaps even more so. With each alteration, a new message, perhaps divinely inspired.

I do my duties in the world so I can retreat––into the yard, into myself, into the absence of voices except my inner one and the whispers from butterflies and the birdsong, and I listen and listen for The One as I visit my many companions of the natural realm. Often, I bring heaven down. To earth. Though I find enough evidence that it is already here. All about us. And as much as I avoid the humans, I know the greatest purpose here is to love one another. My purpose the same but from afar. Bringing light and hope to you is how I try to do my part. 

The things we edit… 

Often, in relation, we edit by removing blemishes, by cropping out all the real, showcasing our best fake versions of ourselves and our lives, for behind the cameras lie the whole truths. We compete. We turn the cameras around onto the shells of our selves, lose the nature and others, snapshots of ourselves as the universe’s center, lenses in reverse yet outward, for our inner selves are not the focus. 

There are pieces of heaven in each of us. Because we were each made the way He intended. What we make of ourselves from what we were given: that is the welcomed art of continued collaborative creation. Excavate the light within. Keep painting with your truest inner discovered colors. We should never settle for being done when we are each and all continued masterpieces in progress. May we never fade permanently to sepia or still life; though both of these are essential to the process. 

I still believe we can beautifully alter all of this… 

All words and images on this site ©LauraDenise

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. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

In The Eye

Don’t tell me there is no divinity
when I am looking heaven in the eye,
infused with the essence, soul-transfixed, lifted,
swirling upwards as colors become light,

and the ingress solicitously entices the spirit
as form sublimes, shapeshifts until undefined,
and passes through the full transfusion of serenity
through the glowing portal in the after-pouring sky. 

Poem and this evening’s photo ©LauraDenise