Tag: #healing

No Lexicon

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/20204174/posts/3955628331

There exists no lexicon

For the echoes of emptiness here–

Where the azaleas bloom

Purple, pink, and white,

While dusty looking

Lavender sends up

Multiple spikes,

As roses yield up

Open, thirsting mouths

To the sky.

Though the soil here

Nourishes color and green

Growing things,

While life appears

Apparently abundant,

Although neighbors smile and wave,

The soil remains absent of truth, of meaning,

Of love—of a spirit—of a soul.

No lexicon exists for the emptiness

Echoing throughout the soil

In this place.

 

An Autumnal Baptism

Image is my own

Caught in the evening downpour,
I am washed clean of summer.
Summer’s red rock, red dirt dreams
Sluiced from me with this autumnal drenching.

Morning greets me with a cool hand
Of sunshine upon my brow.
Autumn whispers of a harvest
Under skies of bluest topaz.

A clear, clean, honest reaping
In days yet to be had.

Bouquets of the Ramshackle

wk 227 ramshackle
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/09/18/weekend-writing-prompt-227-ramshackle/

https://amanpan.com/category/eugis-prompts/

With ramshackle shards
Of heart, soul, self
Falling away like the browned petals
Of a long-wilted bouquet,
We create a riotous noise
In ramshackle attempts
To find some connection.

Lumbering, awkward attempts
At reaching out to touch once again,
To replace, to freshen 
The brown wilted and missing parts
With new bouquets of spring
Whose stems sit in eternally
Fresh, clean waters.

We dream of a life lived
No longer ramshackle,
With no long-wilted bouquets
Of a past to haunt with falling petals,
But a life returning whole,
To move without noise
Through the world once again.

Freedom of Wings

Image is my own






Haunting seen
In darkening clouds
Of chrysalis dreams
Where wanting,
Where desiring,
Haunt seen
Cease existing--
In this capturing
No ring 
pierced through
Butterfly wings
Dripping still
From newly emerging
Dreams not tended.


	


	
	






	
	

		
Fractured Twilight
	


	

		

Image is my own





https://amanpan.com/2021/07/01/eugis-weekly-prompt-twilight-july-1-2021/




Walking in fractured twilight


Is the smoothest time of light and mind–


A wish made–


To braid reality, this curve of light, with sweetest memory


Thus, so entwined


One begins to hope,


Believing in miracles once again


To spite all fractures made of years.
	


	
	






	
	

		
In the Long Ago So It Goes
	


	

		

image courtesy of istock









 


In the long ago


Youth’s armor


Stripping down fates


In acknowledgements


Of ruined selves


Where someplace we lost


The spare threads


To stitch everything back together


And could never touch another


As we once touched the other,


Letting go dreams


Sprinkled with desires


That only served to choke


The future we swallowed


In gulped decades


While watching dreams


Drift and float like the blown off


Heads of dandelions


Until settling into the


Drudgery of what must be done


In the day to day—


No answers exist when


The only answer is


There be no magic here,


No fairytales, no giants,


No forever’s or an eternity


Yet there be no lies,


No castles built on air,


No innocent beings with wings to rip away


In devilish delight,


No trust found broken


In garbage cans.


 


And so it goes.


 


And so it goes,


In essence,


Neither was what


The other really wanted


Resentments the wooden


Puzzle pieces of a child’s game


Tumbled down over us


In crushing weight


Until only the dust


Of us was left


To be swept away.


 


 
	


	
	






	
	

		
Washed
	


	

		

At the Beach – Image by KL Caley





https://new2writing.wordpress.com/2021/06/03/writephoto-beach/#like-5743




( An older poem written in 2015 while in Provincetown, MA.  Revised for this week’s writephoto challenge.)



At sunrise over water,


        Remembering as if in a dream  


The child and you and me


As we stood by a sea


Half a world away.


Both of you now baptized differently by my tears.


 


And for and from you,


I am left with things neither given


Nor felt in years,


 Linked by all the fears


To form over a decade of a life


Lived like a stranger


In my own shrinking skin.


 


I have stood


Since the dawn


At this ocean’s edge


Waiting, waiting.


And now at noon


The rain begins.


Fierce pelting blows


Washing me clean


Of all I know


Or dare to dream.


 


For living continues


Within my own skin


 





	


	
	






	
	

		
Scars of Hope
	


	

		

Image is my own










I gather hardened scars of loss and damage
Braided into keloid beauty
That are not blossoms of bitterness,
But fragrant beauties
That make me who I am.
Even the bars of your barren garden
Called love could not steal away
The essence of my hope.
Instead, the black, barrenness
within sugar syrup words
Of one never able to love
Contain no acid
To eat away
My skin of hope.

	


	
	






	
	

		
First Day of May
	


	

		

Image courtesy of Givingcompass.org











 




Winds and rains came today.





I tried to follow the trail





They made.





But on this first day of May,





I was not strong enough–





To let the wind take me,





To allow pelting rain to abrade away





All my accumulated grime.





No freedom could I find





Within this day of winds and rains.

	


	
	






	
	

		
Whispered Tales
	


	

		

Image courtesy of Pinterest.com












A phoenix rises in flames


From out the left side of my chest


With feathers of flame yet,


Set free to fly where it wills.


 


One day, it will return,


Nuzzling deep inside my chest again,


All the ashes gone,


All flame having died away,


Its fiery colored feathers


Whispering, singing to my blood


Of beauty seen,


Of tantalizing things touched,


Of all the air breathed, smelled, felt,


Of the sounds soft and harsh heard


All along the way around the earth.


 


Through the whispered tales


Of those fiery feathers


My blood will tell me


Where I am to go.