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

Broken Blind(ers)

Always broken blinds,
dirty window panes,
I listen for a message
in the language of The Rains.

Hours pass by as I lie
in honesty – open, transfixed,
determined to encourage
Revelation to visit.

On my island where I desire
the silence to shatter
the chaos swirling, chanting,
withholding the answers.

Sun returns
prematurely.
Cross-breeze through screens:
I listen for the whispers
to reveal what I plea, need,
to know

in my bones,
in my soul.

1/6/22

Hands in Time

My hand finds yours;
feel my fingers
slide and weave
into place,
your loving anchor
to steady you
when fears cause thoughts
to race.

My hand is in yours;
there is nothing
we cannot endure
and use
to manifest it
into something more,
good and pure,
repurposed anew.

My hand is in yours,
only changing slightly
in physical form
as we age,
but the love transmitted
only strengthens
with each adjoined
passing day.

My hand in yours,
in one of the ways
we become one,
so natural
and effortless
the genuine home
welcome.

One day our love
will transcend this life
and these hands,
but then our light
can fully fuse
as we finally rise together to
begin.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Flickers

Fear resides on both sides,
in the direct sun and in
the borderless shadows;
the light, however,
competes with mine,
so my soul still remains
largely unexposed.

I unzip my skin
behind the bushes
and dip into the sea
of all that I am
and all that I have
yet to be,

a flame underwater, inextinguishable,
no longer chained to the illusion
of drowning;
I dive deeper in belief
of my self
and arise, wet and glowing.

In my new skin,
a more comfortable fit,
I swirl together
the sun and shadows
as I dance,
and the flickering
upon my upturned face
reveals another transformation
taking place
within.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Eruption

I stop kissing you
all over
with the arrival
of those colors,

that fleeting burst
of wonder
to remind us of our
benevolent Creator.

The sky erupts
in pastels and light;
the windows get tinted,
so I fly outside.

By the hand
and heart,
still connected, 
you follow suit,
smiling topless

in your jeans.
The light reflects
off my evergreen
irises.

You say it’s hard
to tell which is brighter
when my eyes are affixed
on the horizon,

but even you
succumb to it:
the moments of glory,
the magnificence, 

and just like that,
the day descends,
and we resume
our sweet indulgence:

lips dancing
beneath the stars
that wink between
themselves 
about the lovers

they brought together
by aligning 
when He finally gave the nod
in the timing… 

Poem and unedited sunset ©LauraDenise

Dust and Glue

I wish I knew 
true love
of friendship 
early on.
I wish it didn’t exist
as missing
photos in 
the album,
having been
removed
from the glue
after each exposure 
of being 
used,
or that one
that left me
to this day
confused.
My album
became less 
and less
full;
lighter became
the feeling
I knew, 
chambers of the heart
renovated rooms,
but I held fast
to faith,
and God inside
filled each 
vacant space.
I kept 
the others
at arm’s length,
guard up,
bowed face,
casually brushing 
invitations 
away,
though introversion
was also at
play,
having created
my very sacred 
space,
but in these weeks 
when weak
became my shame,
and I had to
search extra hard
to find
the blessing
takeaway,
it was friends
who came to save
the day,
who found
and mended
and returned
my cape,
who lifted me back
with hugs
to strength. 
Okay, Lord. 
In this broken state,
I give you 
thanks. 
Full is the feeling 
when the heart
reaches
dam break,
when love
fills in 
in all of its 
sizes and shapes,
and the dust dances
off those old
blank pages.