Between Brick Walls

Between brick walls,
faux stars:
still the magic
makes my dreams
flutter
in my heart.

Above the lights,
the universe:
I imagine lanterns,
launched with whispered
verse.

Meanderings

In the absence of trail markers,
I find they were always there;
He’s seen where I’m headed
and steers me with care.

An arrow in morning-glory gold
and silhouetted wings
once again lead me
solo into the sunrise
in my homebound
meanderings…

His Ray

Dawn gently stirs
to find her,
single wildflower.

In his softest warmth
extended,
she slowly rises,
highlighted,

and across the shadow line
sends her cheer
to the fallen,

who, in turn,
becomes one
with the earth.

“Right behind you,”
she comfortingly whispers,

as a sea bird
breaks the ray,
or was it Sun
blinking his tear
away?

Poem and image ©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.

Never Fully

Golden Orb so slowly burned out,
descended beyond all trace,
save for its selfless beacon beam
upon Waxing Crescent’s face

who, in turn, invited every star
with unknown name
to share the stage
for the benefit,
Hope’s Grace,

admission for all, free,
no matter the creed;
for me, I believe
the Creator of space
so lovingly handmade
a place where the light
never fully recedes,
personally for you
and for me.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

syllabic wings

the golden came
faithfully again to paint
pinetops as they gently sway
the glistening above
the reaching rays

autumn’s premonition
or southern grace
contributing to the
habitual change
of shades

just in time
as I was searching
for a place
to perch post-pain

to begin again
with syllabes
freeing my soul
to create

Stepping

Stepping from rooftop
onto the aerial ice,
fathoms deep, soul still
lights…

Breathing Light

I wish
in my towering height,
bloom stretched
to the beautiful sky,

only to
bear seeds,
to take hold
inside of you
on this breath
of love’s breeze.

Among your shadows,
I yearn
to sprout
to devour
all choking
self-doubts

and leave
your soul
to bleed
only in white.

I wish to feed you
my excess
light.

Dissolving Stitches

We all have shadows,
how easily, daily,
we forget,
ego mostly to protect
increasing the brightness,
blinding with discordance
who you are and who I am,
sharing the same thread.

The dark is not blocked light,
shadows are not turned-backs,
but the yin and yang of life
natural inside, what we all have.

Let us all embrace
the shades,
open ourselves
to being stitched
into the quilt
of human race,

each of our picture shapes
turning to color
and telling our stories
so we may wrap ourselves
in a shared comfort.