Poet. Writer. Photographer.
When drowning in the desert,
I make my own oasis
to anchor my hope upon
’til tame becomes the tempest.
I know the weather patterns,
just not when the wells will dry,
but when they do, I’ll resurrect my heart
from its protected burial site.
Poem and (this morning’s) images (while walking into work) ©LauraDenise 🙂
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.
To pause the pain,
I watch the wind
spin petaled pinwheels
as the colors blend.
I reach to turn the wild-
flower kaleidoscope,
hiding in the hues
of an alternate vision
of beauty and hope.
Perhaps I will not return
to my world of gray;
perhaps I will, but disintegrate
The Cloud with these
faith rays.
All poems and images on this site ©LauraDenise
Whirlwinds, whirlpools,
whirl me, no blackholes,
just the pulls and pushes
of the world;
when will I be able again
to simply be
still?
My soul needs the refuge
of trickles,
the focus on the ridges
of ripples.
Throw me not around;
throw a pebble
to the pond
for my gaze to sail upon
to where the circle runs
out…
Just give me a moment
and I’ll give you again
all of me,
all of my
love.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
The pull of the day,
of the years,
of everyone’s needs
leaves shadows
and cavities
from ebb’s
never-ending
taking,
but the sun’s
reflection
warms me
in oranges,
and the glow
stays.
The light
one way
or another
will
illuminate,
independent of
ever reaching
that haunted,
hollowed
space.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Let my honeyed-elixir voice
in your left ear
reach down to the raw & scarred
present and past tears,
those rips in the abyss
of the soul:
let this touch caress
and these words slowly dripped
from my lips
coat.
I know
each deep,
dry-well fissure
all too well:
let me stitch you
with these
golden threads
like I’ve sewn
myself
and fill you
with the feel
of liquid hope.
Let it
overflow.
Lay down your armor
beside mine,
undress so I
may dress
the wounds
unable to be healed
by Time.
You are safe
tonight.
Let me take care
of you
until the return
of Light.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
If I have to have walls,
give me windows
big and bright
where shadows can dance for hours
with the light,
windows that open
wide
to invite the breezes
inside.
In all mental-health seasons,
I so easily slip away
for days,
lose myself
in those sunny sills
and rainy panes,
faraway thoughts
that need not be
sorted nor restrained;
even my muses need
a holiday.
The spaces inside
my dwelling fade
in comparison
to the glass
and screens I need
for my soul
to not suffocate.
If I have to have walls,
give me windows
through which to endlessly
escape.
Saving grace,
whole heart back
in your arms,
you hold all of me
as me;
I never knew
how non-words
could feel the best route.
Unspoken is our reset,
mutual forgiveness,
moving on
but not leaving
anything unaddressed.
We understand,
silent resolutions,
in the simple language
of love.
Do you mind if I stay
extra near
awhile,
to just exist
in this balance,
a respite
from the drama
of being so much?
Sometimes
(more often than not),
I exhaust
myself
with this wild heart
and wild soul
I house.
Hold me tight, my love.
You are the only one
who can.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
I must part ways with you now,
dear Darkness;
Light is forlorn
without its Laura,
my aura
is dimming
the further I drift
in this alluring
cradling
away from attempts
of putting forth
the efforts
to swim
back up
toward Bliss:
I still hope,
believe (barely),
that it exists.
A parting kiss…
Yes, I know
that means
I will have to let go,
for now,
of that dream,
but I can keep
the parts
that were seeded,
for weeds
they are not;
I feel it,
in that new spot,
how I can nurture
it into something
beautiful
still…
I will.
I return to the isle
from a distance,
leave a trinket,
so it is known
I’ll always
be near,
no need to desert
every future
possibility.
We will all
someday
see.
The revelation
did not hit
like a ground-scorching
lightning bolt
disappearing theatrically
in a trail of heaven-retreated
smoke…
I simply looked around
in the settling dust
of the storm
I created,
and there you were,
steadfast despite being
injured,
waiting
for me to again
extend
my hand.
You’ve always been there,
the only one
who’s never
left,
despite the mess
I make
in trying
to emerge
from the grave
of my past,
buried alive,
but each time
my wings
open,
the ghosts reach up,
re-clasp.
You never waver
in your belief in me.
I hope this is the last
tentacle severed
to set us both
free.
Laura Denise 