Golden Frames

Golden transformation
those past pains
with limited perspectives
seem to undergo
when God and time
mix in blessings and distance.

No phoenix transformation needed;
from the fires before ashes,
I retrieve the experiences
and in lieu of scar-brands

manipulate the molten looking-glass
and use the heat to my advantage,
blowing a kiss of forgiveness
to all of my previous misfortunes,

all the ways things did not turn out
the way I hoped they would,
for in the end, it seems that all
will be perfectly understood.

So in the setting sun of yesterdays,
I withhold the potential for rain
and weld the cloud shapes
into precious golden frames…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

The Lines We Grip

I don’t know

if time heals as much

as it wears us thin,

loosens our grip

on the line,

not giving up hope,

but giving in

to the realization

that whatever was on the other end

is not coming back,

will never be able to be

reeled in,

and eventually,

we reach for the tail end

instead

with our other hand,

of the kite,

not knowing what

it looks like

hidden

in the white clouds,

but sensing that

up is universally better

than down,

and little by little

our cut and blistered fingers

relax on the line

that sinks under

and without realizing,

we let it slip

to reach with the other hand

for that kite string,

believing, hoping,

again

in what it might bring…