Blue white mist rises
from the creek bed on the horizon.
It softly drifts to hush the brandy grasses,
that blow and shake in fear as Winter approaches.
The trees stand stately,
on the hill they refuse to acknowledge
the rains have left them bare and dripping still
from their postpartum, babes ripped from their arms.
Yet in all of this ache
the sky has not remembered the time of mourning.
It stretches and spreads, free of the clouds
that had confined its piercing blue.
In seeming act of rebellion,
the sky screams forth in radiant light,
letting out its purest tune in hues
that dare the cold to come and try it.
And here I find myself,
at home amidst the contradiction,
breathing courage o’er the grasses, grieving
with the trees, and spread my soul wide with the sky.
I thrive among the strife
of living in the two worlds at one time.
And although I ache and hope for this embrace made tangible,
Light fighting back darkness sets a fire in my eyes.
Houses I see, but they aren’t home to me.
In my mind they house another family.
Some that I visit, and in which I stay,
But to live there forever just is not my way.
I like to see them from afar,
meet them on the porch where they are,
and talk for a while, enjoy a dinner or tea,
maybe stay for the night to wake with the morn
and watch how the sun loves their home.
Oh, I love how the sun loves a home,
how it fills it with light from morning ’til night,
and how the shadows dance round in return.
But then after I see, its the road left for me;
not to stay but to wander and roam,
to be in one place and then move to another,
all the while tracking the sun.
The forest feels deep enough to let me be free,
and the sky in the desert is home.
The mossy, green knolls all laugh as they roll,
and I laugh in the joy they’ve become.
Because oh how I love,
the way the Son loves a home.
I pick up my spyglass
on this fine overcast day,
and raise to the horizon
to see what comes this way
Dawn thunders on,
pouring over the waves:
The crests of these grassy hills,
burning embers, they blaze
Dawn slips on by,
bringing with it noon-day light.
The sky is still a blanket,
and the birds are a-flight.
Dusk rises up
from the horizon to seize;
before her long purple gown
the remnants of day flee.
Night hushes us
with its midnight blue song.
The clouds slip away to show
the starry host and throng.
Sing through the night,
my darling, sing with the moon,
and I’ll raise up my spyglass
to the Right-Now’s tune.
Oh King of Light,
please bind up these lies;
these lies that consume us,
and tie up our minds.
Oh King of the Armies,
come shatter these chains.
This bondage is heavy,
and it just won’t break.
Oh King of my Peace,
please come breathe on me.
Clear up the air,
to You no devils compare.
There’s no darkness in You,
in You there’s no fight.
No lies can hold up,
to Your love and Your light.
With You all the darkness
and devils, they flee,
and I’m finally gasping,
I’m finally free.
A poem in the night
like a whisper on the wind
revealing the thoughts of the
Wake in the morning
to find those sentiments passed,
still the poem keeps on whispering,
“Look what we’ve found.”
God, heal our land,
the land of our souls.
Remind us evermore,
of our Eternal Home.
I like poetry
But not when I feel sickly
My brain hurts now too
Is this a cop out?
That is very possible
Or I am lazy
But I did research
How to create a haiku
Counting my fingers
Laying in the dark
Counting to five and seven
While I moan in pain
Today’s poem goal is fulfilled
Still I keep typing
Rhythm and math is
A fun combination for
Pushing away stress
Maybe this poem goal
Not a burden anymore
It is now a joy