Flickers

Fear resides on both sides,
in the direct sun and in
the borderless shadows;
the light, however,
competes with mine,
so my soul still remains
largely unexposed.

I unzip my skin
behind the bushes
and dip into the sea
of all that I am
and all that I have
yet to be,

a flame underwater, inextinguishable,
no longer chained to the illusion
of drowning;
I dive deeper in belief
of my self
and arise, wet and glowing.

In my new skin,
a more comfortable fit,
I swirl together
the sun and shadows
as I dance,
and the flickering
upon my upturned face
reveals another transformation
taking place
within.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Twirling Petals

Between my fingers, I slowly twirl
the way I’ve done before,
white petals like the pinwheel
that may in turn propel my heart
and set in motion in the universe
the dreams I’ve protectively harbored, 
but now I realize, those dreams have been
all granted by the stars,
so the only thing that fades
in the mist of heaven’s clouds
is my grip on hope
for I can release the hold
now that I have been delivered
to your arms. 

Roots and Blooms

With a single spark
from my wild heart,
I sneakily reseed
a little yellow cheer
and carry on
my solo way,
planting the
little flames
to light the way
back to
love.

So if you see
the floral light,
pass it on
randomly,
be kind
to a stranger,
let’s try
to string
smiles,
no matter
how fleeting,
for the winter is
receding,
and the birds sing
of forgiveness,
of burying,
of remembering,

for in the decay
of leaves,
we can fertilize
the best parts
of memories,
and visit
the rest
at the graveyard
of past seasons;
the reasons
you cling to
that poison 
your roots,
leave by the wayside
and mark the route.
Visit respectfully
but do not carry it
with you;
seeds were meant 
for detaching,
and rebirthing
where they land
new blooms.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Seasons Within

Shades of bright pink–
magenta, fuchsia, cerise–
through a sea of gray, peek,
a reminder that soon it will be spring.

In the shroud of fog and mist
that seems to perpetually persist, 
nature refuses to statically subsist;
every cloud will again disperse or lift.

Time was constructed with the condition of motion 
with clauses that require stages of hibernation;
every living thing needs rest and recuperation.
Time ticks on at the same rate; speed is but perception.

Fill the moments wisely with balance,
tenderly caring for each personal aspect.
Mind, body, and soul are both one and separate;
each undergo necessary, natural occurrences.

Embrace each season that inevitably occurs;
even the cold, the dark, the thorns, the spurs
have their purpose in the slows and the stirs.
We are nature within, designed this way by our Creator.

This too shall pass: it’s happening for a reason. 
Let’s not be in a hurry for every next season. 
This moment now is infused with more than you can know.
We are not meant to understand, only to continue to evolve,

to grow. 

We will reach the sun when we are meant to. 
Side by side or entwined, let us together bloom. 
No hurry, no need to be bold;
we can take our time, be led by

the whispers of our souls. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Meadow Myth

So many keys you possess,
having collected them along the way,
sand-fossils upon lonely shores,
earth-buried near silent graves,

all shapes and sizes,
from all times and places,
dating back centuries,
no ties to faces.

From a misty meadow,
skin-kissed with dew,
I emerge and
wordlessly stand
before you.

I have waited
all these lifetimes
for my key-holder
to unlock me to find

my deeper, my deepest,
potential beauty.
You raise your
worn pouch of keys;

my cloak slips
revealing non-flesh,
just my soul
preparing to
receive the gifts,

and from my light
are launched a thousand
butterfly-like fairies
that swirl around
until the white blinds
and unburies

my greatest potential,
and as the blaze subsides,
I am left with a glow
radiating from the inside,

and all of your keys
have metamorphosed
into one skeleton,
ancient and ornate, gold,

and with a knowing
in my eyes of green seas,
I reach for your heart
and let the key release

all of the beauty
and hope and dreams
you have for so long
held onto with
battered-knuckled belief,

the non-spell, broken,
for we only needed
to find each other again,
having once protected

our love by
locking it
and entrusting
you with

the task of finding
each last key
that would bring you
back to me,

and now, my love,
we are again free
to continue to love
each other eternally.

Come, fly away
with me.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

On My Way to the Sea

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I am on my way

to the sea,

on my way

to see to

my dreams.

 

New fit

of a home

surrounds me;

legs itch

to explore

beyond old

boundaries.

 

Still inside a shell

but will expel it

shortly;

no longer does fear

hinder me.

 

I’ve heard of a place

that excites me to

believe

 

I now have the only

thing needed

 

to let the saltwater

rinse me

 

and deliver me fully

to freedom:

 

self-love,

as the last ingredient

for healing.