Flaura

I only apply love, 
for love is my essence;
I don’t know how
to have any other 
purpose.

I try to dim
the brightness
of my aura,
but then, from within,
sprout the wild, white
flora.

Despite this gift
planted in my creation,
and all my practice,
and the best
of intentions,

I can’t seem to get
a reciprocated
connection,
which makes me think
I was misplaced
in this wrong
dimension…

I Remember You

I remember you…
cute dresses,
bright eyes
up and ahead,
sun-kissed tresses, 
shades of smiles
genuine,
wonder and hope
and appreciation,
giving, giving, 
car conversations
with Him, 
up, up
chin, 
letting others in, 
learning to break
patterns
to protect
from theft
what’s mine
within.

I remember you,
am returning now,
will keep on the journey 
toward the true
and beautiful
Daughter, self.

Thank you, Lord, for the friends who saw me through it with You (again)…

Scrapbooking

Split-rail fences,
wildflowers,
clouds and moon,
and golden hours,

cuddly pets,
pajama days,
all things cinnamon,
autumn ablaze,

friends’ hugs,
hugs in general,
generations working
on jigsaw puzzle,

chai latte,
tea in fancy china,
every sunrise,
29:11 of Jeremiah,

daughter blossoming
and other such miracles,
like the way you let him show me
Your love, unconditional…

these but a few
of my favorite things
I fill my album
with to keep
the good in me
to offset the pain
until I finally find
my way home again.

As I Await

Black morning, coffee
with Stevia and Cream,
only laptop light as I await
Dawn’s sweet window greeting.

Unrushed so briefly,
though second hand, I hear,
muses in pajamas,
whispered verses
in my ear,

pup still lazy,
still and quiet on the street,
ah…the first bird call
to rise the songs
from sleep.

Lack of photos
free from buried memories
from which to see
the poems,

I feel a bit lost
lyrically
but also even closer
to home.

I run my fingers
across your cheeks
in this four-by-six,

and from my heart,
pure from the source,
blow across distance,
this kiss.

Juryless

Nothing I can do or say,
no amount of love,
can faze the victim
of the self
while he is being Judge –

condemning, sentencing,
self-shackling to disgust,
the mirror of my eyes
that hold the truth,
and all this evidence,

falls upon deaf ears –
the abused,
too far gone…

All I can do is wait
patiently
until the trial’s done.

It’s hard
to accept being helpless
while keeping it separate
from not being enough,

but I’ve met
Depression personally
and know he’s
other-world…

At the back of the courtroom,
I stay knelt
and keep praying with faith to
our shared God,

and when you
recognize me
and are ready,
I’ll take you home,
my sweet love.