Tag: spiritual

Somewhere Along the Way

I suppose somewhere
along the way, 
this became 
about me, 
this once person
conditioned
to inwardly
mistreat,
neglect, 
bury
prematurely
at sea,

too busy
keeping them
afloat
in puddles,
sacrificing my soul
for others, 

in the lows 
between lowers
in that life
unstable,
vows before God
to remain 
(abusive) spouse faithful,

the escape-clause
contingencies blurred,
repercussions lingering 
in the years after,

children ten years apart,
and always children,
I keep on 
giving,
Silverstein tree 
down to the trunk,
instead of remaining
to be sat upon,
I leave my roots
to carry on,

re-sprouting from
acorns and seeds
to reach the end
of land
as a sunflower, 
brazen yet desperate,
in the sand
to be plucked
by a youthful hand

and sprinkled
into the surf
for the mermaids 
to collect 
and bring to the site
of where I left
myself
and resurrect 

from Davy Jones’ Locker
the Heart of the Sea
still alive
in its keeper:
me. 

The ducks and swans
gather to greet
at the pond
where I used to
weep. 

Donned now
in floral dresses
and locks
long enough 
to dance freely 
with the breeze, 
(he always said
neither looked good
on me…)
the reflection I see
is another plot twist
in my ongoing story

with an ending
yet to be written 
but full of God’s 
golden glory,
His daughter’s strength 
ever-growing. 

Somewhere along the way, 
somehow this did become
about me. 
Another struggle lifted,
another soulful healing. 

In the setting sun,
I reflect upon the journey
and look so forward
to the fulfilling
of my legacy.

I will never drown,
for you can only
hold me down
so long, 
years but moments
in the eternity 
of dawn. 

Hope unconditionally
floats
from the buoyancy 
of love. 

This is my story, 
long overdue 
to be 
self-sung.

I actually do like to sing those soulful songs.
(He always changed the station if I even began to hum…)

After-Storm

Unedited after-storm sky,
heavens open up
as if to apologize 
for the tribulation
necessarily survived,
though still withheld 
must be the why.

Instilled with a knowing
a higher power so loving
is in control when I spin
in my free will off trajectory, 

I simply pause all the swirling
emotional turbulence within 
and feel the wind,
the exhale of the one above,
mighty breath on my skin;

my hair and soul lift up,
and I wish my feet would. 
Grounded on this earth for now;
let me master all the lessons.

There is nothing but comfort
in the after-storm sky,
a sojourn wrapped in serenity,
a glimpse of afterlife. 

Little Tree On The Mountaintop

Little tree on the mountaintop
beneath sun’s celestial reach,
planted purposely at the very peak
or actively advancing toward dreams
from a seed,
more mighty to me
than the mountain itself
and all of the tallest trees
beneath
looking up. 

Little tree on the mountaintop
Biblically reminiscent,
perhaps a Jesus story
never told,
or the Lord’s
seemingly futile reach
to have us remember 
this precious given life’s
goals. 

Who is changed upon the descent from the mountain?
Some things seem to remain as shocking as Moses’. 

Wishes and Prayers

When I pray, 
I always add the addendum,
“…if it is in accordance with Your plan,”
for more than what I plea for,
superseded, I wish for us to remain
always in His hands.

I trust whatever may happen,
although I may not understand,
will come with a needed lesson,
a necessary occurrence in the process
of the destiny in becoming once again 

who I am. 

I was reminded of this
when a partial wishie lent
further wisdom for reflection.

Sometimes the biggest wishes
should not be spent, eyes closed, 
all at once, in one breath and direction

but patiently 
spaced out in seeds,
part self-initiated action,
part angel-breath breezes. 

Sometimes what we desire most
needs time to germinate to non-perfection
and be released in parts for better chances
of fruitful multiplication. 

I am always careful 
in what I wish and pray for:
I don’t want to get in the way
of what He has in store. 

I try not to be too cautious 
in taking action with soulful instinct,
for the surest way to get lost
is to pass up what He hands me. 

I do close my eyes 
to bring up a whisper
from my soul
that launches another
seed of hope… 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Floral Orbit

It’s hard to decipher
which is me, 
which is you, 
when we alternate
positions, both always
as one and the gentlest
of blooms.

Sometimes it is the shadows
that give the needed solace;
in tender loving form, 
one protectively umbrellas
an ecliptic respite.

We are the same:
each crease in the petal
a similar quondam-
but-unable-to-be-forgotten
story, memory,
that will not become
us, 
for our souls’ DNA
seeps from
hearts of gold
and velvet touches,

for all purity
is innocence, 
all white efflorescence,
divine;
pollen an offering
to keep seeding time, 

and ours is upon the horizon, 
finally in sight. 
Let’s keep orbiting there,
as each other’s faith and support,
strength, and hope,
floral lifeline.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

A Hummingbird Visit

I was sitting out on the patio this morning after the rains, writing, or attempting to, taking a typing break, messaging a friend about my struggle to get back into prose writing; I think my DNA has morphed since being rebirthed back into a poet. I was realizing that my own nature photos have come to be my writing prompts, how poetry flows out of me, but prose tends to resist the dance, or maybe it is that my poetic muses hog the dance floor, not to show off but because they can’t help themselves when they feel that music rising up from within.

Then a hummingbird flew up to me, looked into my eyes, and darted away.

For whatever reason, it moved me to tears. I was so giddy, absolutely thrilled about the special encounter. Hummingbirds have previously been so elusive, always in and out of my peripheral or having disappeared up ahead before I can really get a good look. I heard its arrival before I saw it, those loud pulsating wings startling me before I could realize what was happening: a messenger sent to me. And a writing prompt.

I did not capture the bird in my photographic lens. It would have been impossible to react that quickly. I’m actually quite glad I witnessed the experience directly, eye to eye. I have no proof it happened. I personally have no proof hummingbirds exist at all. But it left me with the hard-to-describe feelings and emotions and soulful connection that nature is to me. It was Mother Nature saying, “Oh dear child, write your stories, with or without the photo: it’s all within you.” Okay, maybe that last part was my friend’s words, which have also come to nest within my heart.

In the memory of those wildly beating wings that left my heart the same, I am reminded that spiritual encounters have such effect. When I feel the celestial presence in those silent, soulful moments, in nature, in my faith, it is usually imprint-less in every concrete way. No evidence. No souvenir. No artifact for the museums. But the miracles still happen. And I wonder if that’s the condition of miracles. They can only be felt, or seen in the absence of any other witness. And it seems to me from the undeniable intensity, that feeling is the most reliable sense we have been so lovingly implanted with. That abstract sixth sense. The invisible thread that ties us to where we came from and where we will return to, that ultimate home that exists without concrete proof. No picture of the beyond, except the gateway in the clouds, golden-lined. Except in the bud on the verge of opening. Except in the ray that reaches through the dark wood. Except in the display the sunset paints. Except in the lyrics of the songbird. Except in the ancient secrets of the sea’s wise waves. Except in the grandest mountaintop view of a minuscule piece of the universe. Except in the wings of a messenger, a hummingbird on a Sunday morn.

As long as
I can feel,
I can write
about nature,
about my faith,
the two inseparably
entwined.
With or without
the photograph.
With or without
even my eyes.
With or without
rhyme. The reason
is all I need:
I was born
with a sixth sense
that wildly beats,
like a hummingbird’s
wings in me.

My Buoyancy

When a million mixed feelings rise up in me
despite the dam I’ve so meticulously built,
and the tears threaten to overtake, 
in the emotional disturbance, overspill,

and I get so frustrated
for not being able to keep it down,
and I get exhausted from 
the not understanding
of these things too buried within myself, 

and upon my pillow, I offer up the prayer
for God to calm the waters for good, 
and right on cue, I hear the notification
that you have both heard, 

and through the start of the tears
that may have come down for days, 
my smile, just like that, returns
from your excited, happy emoji face, 

and upon my cheeks,
the sunless warmth is felt, 
and the flood recedes 
before fully rising out, 

and just like that, 
I feel the peace
like a rainbow promising
that both of your love
for me,
now two doubled-up,
will always be
my buoyancy 

in every real and unrealistic threat
of drowning. 

Poem and images ©Laura Denise

Love’s Melody

More sister soul sharing…

I just connected with this beautiful soul through Instagram. I have made very few connections through IG, but they sure are among my most spiritually impactful. This song is just one of those that simply strokes like a harp my soul, brings up tears from wells too far deep within to stir the waters any other way than through music and song. (Wow to composer Tash Nidai!) 

https://youtu.be/BILR3-CR7Cw

I have found myself replaying this song in the very early morning hours. I thought not only must I share it with you but see what dance my fingers would perform over the keyboard of my laptop here in the dark…

I find since experiencing true love for the first time in my life, and what I feel to be the purest and highest love possible between souls, such songs slip gracefully through, weave in and out of, my soul as love songs about both him and Him. Because they are so similar to me, when God blesses you with the one to love you as He does.

So I feel this song as I walk alone through a field of wildflowers in a flowing dress, running my fingers along the natural growth, arms open like wings, sun kissing me, grateful for His beautiful gifted creation that is such a part of me. I feel this song as I think of the one who loves me; no words can touch upon the feelings, but words set to the most beautiful music sung by a most beautiful voice, poetry set to music…it’s more than I can do to try to convey it as simply a poet. Lastly, I feel this song as a sad but still beautiful one, thinking about those who have lost the love of their life for now, how such love simply lives on and can carry us through until we connect again. Here are my photos and poem inspired by this song… 

At the spring
of our eternal love,
white spring flowers
bloom from the trees.

My weightless soul,
though still 
embodied,
flies with the birds
above the sea.

Bare feet sink
into the endless heavens of
the warm, white, sugar sand
as your natural sweetness
transmits through
my open hand,

Upon my soft cheek,
a tear rests,
tenderly clinging,
not wanting to part
from the kiss.

In a garden
of white bell-blooms,
only the breeze
rings through me
with supreme truths.

These are the ways
I feel your love,
my God and my soulmate;
the love from you both
fills and lifts me,
beyond depth and height.

Love is best measured
by lightness and light. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise.