Fresh Rain

Rebirthing rain,
refreshing breezes whipping
through open windows
to shake me free

out of this trance
of overfeeling,
overthinking,
overbelieving.

I did not go out,
so the out found me.

On my knees.
A solemn prayer.
You should be feeling
better;
I am there

inside of you
eternally,

no matter the routes
to our dreams,
no matter even

if we ever meet.

I’ve sent my soul
to breathe
into you;
listen for a whispered
syllable or two…

Come, love,
let’s get you
rebloomed…

❤️

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Ebbing Regrets

Before they drown me,
I set them free,
release regrets

to the benevolent sea.

The negative leaves
in the ebb,
and in return
brings baptism.

Another rebirth,
a buoyant start,
no more weight
syncing me
to the dark. 

Crest reflects
heaven’s light,
angels waking
at sunrise.

Arms spread wide
as the flow approaches,
submerged in the healing
saltwater solution.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Out of Season

Determined to counter the moody clouds
others have been attempting to cast onto me,
I choose to seek out the sun, spring-infuse myself,
dip my soul into the fresh-blooming green,

breathe in the revitalizing April air,
let the warming rays seep in through my pores,
absorbed more in the whole of the reborn panorama than
focused on the details imploring to be explored, 

labrador-blue heeler happy for any outdoor adventure, 
not a hike but a mutually restorative leisurely linger, 
ahhh…a new season…

Circling back to the start, back to the car, 
I am not allowed to leave, it seems, 
until Mother Nature imparts
a lesson, whispers words of wisdom 
through some not-new, refusing-to-be-forgotten
leaves from two seasons ago, 
still here, and starkly so, 
weathered, fossilized autumn,

a reminder of the past
not so easily dismissed;
buried or not, it insists
on revisits,
coming to you
if you neglect it, 
but what we make
of what is, 
that is the endless work
or blessing
depending on the nature
of what was–
bright, shiny yellow
of yesterday
against the conglomerate
of rocks, man-manipulated
into asphalt,
a yellow sickness
or stubborn
fading sun,
either way the marring,
tattered edges and holes,
do not seem to take the whole,
still here despite the winter
with a fortitude to witness,
to reunite with the green 
it was itself once.

I see a reminder that
we can turn
our back on the past
and run to spring,
but all seasons remain, 
never really leave,
inside us always
are the memories,
tears of joy and loss,
the scars of life;
we can embrace it all, 
co-exist in peace
with all that is inside. 

I choose to find 
the positive,
even in the stumbling 
upon the past
in my determined
celebration of the
present moments,
all presents indeed,
and then I find a smile
in the concrete
when I see
yet another unexpected
chapter of a
love story,
so pure and yet to be
complete…

I wonder what those
resigned to defeat see.
Perception can sting
regardless, some things
we simply must feel
but perspective…
that is the key
in our control
and possession,
a powerful tool we
can self-weld and
self-wield,
manipulate,
to preserve
our internal
peace.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Heart-Buds in Spring

A neighborhood walk
to marvel in the arrival
of spring:
just what I needed.
My furry companion, too, 
raises his face
to the fresh breeze. 

Trees and planted bushes
in people’s private yards
bloom in unison with
the wildflowers on vacant lots,

for heart-buds in spring
cannot help but burst
when the harbingers arrive
and announce it’s finally time

for rebirth. 

On My Way to the Sea

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I am on my way

to the sea,

on my way

to see to

my dreams.

 

New fit

of a home

surrounds me;

legs itch

to explore

beyond old

boundaries.

 

Still inside a shell

but will expel it

shortly;

no longer does fear

hinder me.

 

I’ve heard of a place

that excites me to

believe

 

I now have the only

thing needed

 

to let the saltwater

rinse me

 

and deliver me fully

to freedom:

 

self-love,

as the last ingredient

for healing.

Emergence

white gull camouflaged

against the white sugar sand

sparkling on white shell

in magical fashion

white-crested waves

crashing gracefully onto shore

passing through me

with the salty cure

muted subtle hues

calm my mind and spirit

my arms i raise

no wings to lift away with

 

i fall into the surf

and when all of me is submerged

i feel baptized again

and emerge re-birthed

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This May Day

A beautiful May Day,
a time to celebrate
spring and me,

the blessings He
continuously gifts,
I continuously see;
may I never lose that
heightened ability,

for with it, the awe
of every petal and leaf
seeps into my being,

and with the scents
and colors, I give back
in letters arranged
to the best of my ability

beautifully

to use the talent
He granted me,
and on this day
especially,

I wrap myself
in the love
He endlessly offers
unconditionally

and treat
myself with self-love
humbly
for on this day,
He put such care
into creating me.

He saw me through
every storm
and brought me
to the sea.

I can’t wait to see
what He has in store
next for me.

I continue to follow
faithfully,
as I have for so long
blindly,

but now all about me,
it seems,
are bits and pieces
leading

to some great revealing.
I am getting nearer
to where he wants me to be.

I’m getting nearer
to the highest form of
love and happiness
that can only bloom
from the seeds

He has planted
specifically
in me.

Submersion

A little over two years ago, I visited Ponce de Leon Springs State Park with some friends. It was September, and the water was cold enough to keep most out of it, 68 degrees year-round. Some brave souls waded in the shallow waters.

I dove headfirst off a rock into the deep.

It was a time in my life of great upcoming transition, a time in which I needed to dig deep to find the courage I needed to commit to life changes. When my whole body was instantaneously submerged in the frigid, crystal-clear waters, I felt the freedom, the emergence into a new life, the farewell to the old me.

I needed this. This fountain of youth.

I did not wish to become younger. I wished to live longer. I wished to add back the years of my life I may have lost from the disease of stress. I was ready to start fresh, though some residue cannot be fully washed off, washed away.

Today, other days, I remember that day. That rebirth. I made that dive with purpose, with full faith, full humility, full submissiveness to my higher power. It was a pact with nature, my oldest comrade, the universe, benevolent despite my seemingly unfair shake.

I am a photographer, but I did not take pictures of the deep spring. I did not think to have my friends capture my moment. I did not need equipment to capture it. I knew the moment would remain in my spirit always, as clear and natural as the water.

I did capture two things with my lens that day, I realize as I scroll through my pictures. I will let them speak for themselves; after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Sometimes, though, a non-picture is worth so much more…

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Version 2

Prose 10/21/19. Images 9/24/17. ©Laura Denise