Covenant

Single glistening gossamer thread
catching and releasing rays with wind,
perhaps a bridge
between the yellow and white
wildflowers aglow with golden morning light.

I sit transfixed
by its intermittent existence…

Shadows have yet to be filled in
by Sun still half in bed,
and my ataractic trance
is interrupted by silhouettes:

two “mourning” doves,
omen of good fortune in love

or celestial messengers
like yesterday’s hummingbird
letting me know He’s been present all along,
and this is the amaranthine after-(last)storm calm.

Perhaps The Storms

Perhaps the storms
are simply meant
to rouse our inner
empowerment,

faraway rumbles
culminating
into the now,
waking from hibernation
the reminder
of the how,

for fate is passive
sitting ducks,
and destiny
the arms
in the winds
resurrecting
the self up,

believing in the achieving
part of dreams,
rousing the soul
to with that single bird,
despite the conditions,

sing.

I dance in the rain,
and the bird
wishes it
were me;
we chat about exchanging
wings and feet
but decide each are intentionally
meant to propel,
and here we are together
celebrating freedom
from cage and cell.

Following Flowers

I am fueled by storms
and coastal wind
as I raise my arms to each
and channel them
until empowerment rises
boldly from within…

But it is in the still
and minute,
in the soft scent
of beautiful,
in the trust of subtle,
the barely discernible,
that I feel the forgotten
soothed,
those buried-alive
non-truths;
the golden elixir single ray
finding the torn petal
coats in those places
I am not able to ever reach
on my own.

Up close and personal
is the only way I know
to heal my heart,
to feed my soul,
and that, I believe,
is the path that leads
home.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Umbrellaless On Purpose

Moments drip
drop, first
molecules
floating
to fall,
and when
the basin
is filled,
our time
is up.

Let me taste
each one
individually
upon my
upturned
mouth.

May I spend
the least
amount
in flood
or drought,
paned,
sheltered
or drowned.

Let me feel
it all
though;
to offer an umbrella
or call me inside
is to deny me
each elixir dose
to my soul’s life.

Moments
shared
with others,
even fleeting
in passing,
make up
the ocean
of emotion
that fills and
propels me
most deeply.

When the last sun sets,
I know I cannot take
any drops with
even though they became a part
of my very composition,
but heaven is in the clouds
for a reason,
and I believe from these
drops within,
another birthing
will begin…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

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.

Drifting

Blue skies seem sometimes
behind us too far,
and when the oasis of nearness
dissipates into illusion
yet again,
we dangerously tire,

as the colors of hope
fade
like sidewalk chalk
in the rain,
and we drift
without care
into the storm.

But as long as there are
forks and bends
in the paths and roads,
what-ifs and depends,
Fate can only temporarily take
hostages,

for choice and circumstance
and weather will permit
the opportunities
to change direction
over and over again;
only lack of faith
can lead to the
false perception
of dead-ends.

Sometimes when we are
too weary to drive,
another takes the wheel:
sometimes God,
sometimes Satan,
sometimes someone
who loves you still.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Afterwards

Shadows, gray,
overcast, rain…
Oh how glorious
afterwards are those
first heavenly rays

piercing through,
the contrast needed
to make the bold statement:
“Look up here!”

The more beyond this
sending to each
personal beacons:
“You have never once
been forgotten nor
abandoned.”

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

After the Storm

After the storm,
after the dark clouds part
and the winds die down,
and the heavens opens up,
it is clear that God
is present;
it is when we are
in the midst of it
that we are challenged
to not forget
all along,
He held us.

Ascension

I used to foolishly attempt

to trek around

the storms

to avoid them,

but the weather comes

regardless…

Eventually, I learned

some you must simply

forge through

and get it over with…

But then I remembered

the times upon

aluminum wings

I’ve flown,

and how the storms

appear the ceiling

only to those below.

It took a long while,

but I finally grew

wings of my own

and apply that lesson,

simply soar above

many of the dark clouds,

slip into that

blue-loophole

ascension…

Languid Lingering

I am never blind to the beauty,

but sometimes I get inner-weary,

and I simply let the nature settle

upon me, then slowly seep

into me, filling all those places deep

that needed a coating.

I am never deaf to the beauty.

Sometimes a storm comes ’round to relieve me,

for after my heart skips a beat

and my soul settles after the leap,

the retreating rumbles leave me feeling

not quite so

defeated.