Tag: #paths

Uneditingly Brave

What if
we didn’t edit
but left
everything
the way
in which
we were blessed
with it,
the highlights
disputably the
highs in light,
the shadows
lovingly interweaved,
the bridges
sometimes camouflaged
or only revealed
to the one
meant to
see;
what if the walk
is intentionally
neverending
with boardwalks
to deter us
from fully
exploring
the depths of
the offerings,
the possibilities
of meeting
the ones we are meant to
and the ones by chance,
and what if those
are unfathomably unravelable
in free will, fate, and
happen-
stance…?

Seasons

Seasons about,
seasons within,
seasons of life,
seasons begin.

All seasons end.

This brings about what pleases
and that which disappoints,
that which shatters
and that which fills with joy,

but who are we to judge
what’s in our best interest
from our non-omniscient,
limited perspective?

Who is the narrator?
Who is the character?
Who is the author?
Who will read it

in the end?

Dusty cover,
spring breeze,
dust to dust,
seasons never cease.

I resist the gales of change
even though I’ve grown wings;
sometimes our comfy cocoons
are stirred on purpose
by the leaf.

Premature nostalgia
begins to take hold;
I try to focus on the excitement
of what He has in store.

Seasons never cease.
“Nothing gold can stay,”
but it returns so loyally,
and in its absence regrows

faith.

I will harvest the gold
in the center
as the petals unfurl,
life within life…
keeping or returning to
the purity and light,

I believe,

is the eternal goal.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Second Apiering

Tide flows, 
tide ebbs, 
changing, hiding, 
revealing the edges
of division.

I watch
the transitions,
half dream-drifting,
half paying
detail-attention.

Always thinking. 

I ponder on 
the ebb and flow, 
how one takes
and the other gives
in its rhythmic dance
to and fro

and how taking
can also be
giving, 
and giving be
taking,
and for each,
the difference 
is in the
seeking and releasing.

We send bottled messages
afloat, hopeful for
its accurate delivery
and offer what we desire
for burial at sea;

we collect treasures
and look for clues
from gods and mermaids
Destiny-strewn.

I notice in the wet sand
in between surf’s blanketing,
a secret passageway, 
a ladder to dreams,

unless, of course, 
it’s an evil illusion,
a detour or trap
set by opposing forces.

I wonder
how much 
is serendipity
and divine intervention
verses taking control
and free will’s actions,

if choosing the evanescent
option not on the maps
is a test of fortitude
or foolish brassiness.

Another option,
nonetheless, is presented:
two piers to walk,
but only one may
have no end. 

Poem and images by Laura Denise

Dissolving into Grace

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

Parting Kiss

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.