Tag: #light

The Language of Light

A picture is worth a thousand words, they say, but words
rise up from within me with ease; my fingers, entwined
with no other, freely without partner, have for years
danced so gracefully across the keys.
It is the image that stills me inside,
that holds me mesmerized, 
that I need, I seek, I tweak,
always found in nature
and beneath all the 
bling, beneath
even color, 
is where I
hear the
angels
sing. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Some and Me

Some were built for height,
some false with imitation bark,
some ill-fated by others’ fires, 
some have witnessed the sparks.

The dark, the light, 
rotates and falls 
upon each equally. 
Some were meant to 
sky-reach.
Some use the sun’s love
to bloom in delicate
and fleeting beauty.

At the feet of giant trees, 
with whom I have always
felt most rooted,
in white lace and ray’s kiss
still fresh on my crown,
I have never been so at peace
with who I’ve found
I’ve always been.

Wherever I go now,
it is me who I am. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Always Surmountable

©LauraDenise

We are never trapped,
just fated to faulty perspective,
succumb to specious perception;
it’s all relevant, related –

one more rock-move away
from the light 
on the other side
of the avalanche,

one more “wrong” turn
lost in the forest
before hearing
the anabranch…

much is necessarily experienced:

near suffocation sometimes the only way
to motivate a life-saving change,

the legs of the journey
in the humanless woods
lead to the reflection
and feeling of wounds,

and all paths probably have purpose
among the universe’s higher powers.

Without the lonely, looping trails,
we could not emerge anew
with our truest selves

and others we met along the way
not-so-coincidentally placed.

We are never trapped. 
We are never lost. 
At least not for very long. 

No change was ever ignited 
without the spark.
So many opportunities
missed, passed up, though
after being gifted matchsticks
but still refusing to start
the fire. 

When the Lamp Goes Out

Natural and manmade
silently juxtaposed,
constructed poles
off the mark,
crooked, leaning, 
despite attempted anchoring, 
branches gravitating 
in the right direction, 
toward the Light
of the World, 

rooted in belief,
faith running deep,
grasping earth,
dirt, free of 
concrete, 
sand and soil 
offerings
supporting vertical
inner growth
to break ground,
breathe air,
sprout, bloom, reach,
embraced,
loving whispers
saying you are
beautiful.

When the artificial light
goes out, 
I am able to clearly
see. 

Obstructed view,
no view, 
no proof:
nothing needed.

Even after
the sun retires
from rising, 
inside the seed of me 
will be found this
unshakable

belief.

 

Poem and this morning’s sunrise image ©LauraDenise

Bluebell Truths

First among the season’s
blooms of Mexican bluebells,
the sight of the familiar color
already having sprung
the leak in my heart’s well,

so profoundly in its silence
rang such messages of truth, 
its face to the soft, setting sun,
its torn wing-petal too,

so humble,
so beautiful,
a story untold:
inner workings
only through
the gentle,
loving light
vulnerably
exposed.

We are meant
to fill in the gaps,
each other hold, 
using the same light
harbored in our own
souls. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Deep in the Thicket

Deep in the thicket,
the beacon seeks and finds,
no seed nor bud
neglected nor lost;
keep faith in the Light. 

Deep in the thicket, 
when the first ray shines, 
no beauty can parallel
the humility and grace,
that relieved reach
for renewed life.

You will be found,
for you were never lost.
God has always been there
tenderly removing thorns
and lovingly healing the loss. 

When that darkness
gets illuminated,
you will see
all the others who
were in the thicket too
who are like you,
and me… 

Sometimes we must
wait patiently for the beam,
but we are never alone,
no matter how it seems,

and that wait, I truly believe, 
is necessary to fully bloom
among the weeds. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise