Long ago,
before You became,
You were a Divine spark
filled with the promises
and carrying the hopes and pain
Each Moment of Your history
strung together in multicolored lights:
Some glowed and twinkled,
others flickered valiantly
still others died husks with brittle insides.
And still You shone.
Then others wrapped around you.
Some choked You as they coiled,
Others wrapped You in warmth
and filled Your spaces with Light.
For Light always cancels dark.
And still you Shine.
In the quiet of my own heart
I hear the whispers of knowing
No longer drowned
By the din of day to day.
Who I am destined to be
Need not be “found.”
It need only be stripped
Of its masks, costumes, and camouflage.
It lies fully formed and perfect.
Waiting for the veil
To be pulled gently back
By my own hand.
In the quiet of my own heart
I hear the whispers of knowing
No longer drowned
By the din of day to day.
Who I am destined to be
Need not be “found.”
It need only be stripped
Of its masks, costumes, and camouflage.
It lies fully formed and perfect.
Waiting for the veil
To be pulled gently back
By my own hand.
Blossoms in a garden
Blessings of color and texture
Fingertips brush gently
An almost too subtle
Scent wafts on the breeze.
Memories resurface
Gentle and vivid you remind me,
Of your features echoed in mine,
Your humor in my laugh,
Your smile in mine.
Each petal a memory
Some vivid as yesterday,
Some remembered in my bones.
Echoes of stories fluttering gently,
Pale but never quite forgotten.
Would you cherish the woman I became?
As I look back at the garden
That is the life I sow,
Comes a soft but certain knowing
The blossoms are ours.
Self conscious rage feeds itself
And boils from him
Like acid burns his skin.
The rage feeds on itself
Demon feeds demon.
…
The child is consumed whole;
A snake feasts on itself.
Whispers the agony of his own destruction.
Self conscious anger boils to rage.
And the child wails.
Champion defends the wounded
And quarters the abuser.
Yet the heart beats sluggishly,
The soul screams for mercy
From himself.
The darkness of night
covers the world in a shroud.
We stumble over unseen obstacles,
Our hands blindly searching
For unseen branches
Slapping us in the darkness,
Our toes smart and bleed as we stumble
On uneven ground.
Yet
In the quiet of early morning
The sun rises through the dimness of dawn
Possibilities not yet illuminated,
Then peeking over the horizon
Like a child giggling and creeping from its hiding place.
Light tickles the tips of the trees
And they squirm in the breeze.
Then she pulls back the covers.
Then
Day slowly rises
Groggy and rubbing its eyes.
As the Earth opens the curtains
and the world warms
Smiling with possibility.
The world awakens to possibilities
And promise.
Joy is often a delicate thing.
A flutter against your cheek
When your eyes are closed.
Sit quiet for while it can’t be trapped
Or kept on a shelf.
It will hover about you
Shy, fascinated, and fey
Colors winking,
Quicksilver, whispering, dance.
Settling as the currents of your life
Quiet to breezes in sunshine.
Everyday Muses 