Everything to think of sets off a pondering trail.
corner of 8th and Columbia
street artists vision
Friday found us walking around Holland MI on a campus tour of Hope College and we ventured downtown. Eighth street is lined with quaint shops, craft brewery tap rooms and ample art. Hope College has dutch roots of immigrant children’s educational needs in the late 19th century and the college has blossomed into a 21st century leader in education.
Exciting opportunities for our daughter at Hope, while considering Goshen, Butler, Ball State and IUPUI. Those upcoming campus tours tbd.
The evening was dinner at Boatwerks along Lake Macatawa. We ordered a plate of crab cakes, lake perch dinner and crème brûlée. From our table we watched a barge travel in from Lake Michigan. We look forward to the morning trip to see Big Red Lighthouse at Holland State Park.
I have been feeling rather brave of late.
I carried my thoughts,
alone and wondering about myself. I carry self-doubt,
travel with baggage,
packed haphazardly and feel it time to organize and weed out the garbage.
Abraham Lincoln was wise and gave a speech, 1839, “The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just; it shall not me.” We know he was talking about slavery but we personally can hold ourselves slave to thoughts. A study of his words determines that struggle is personal. We are to love ourselves as our neighbors. Lincoln encourages all to take the torch of light and burn bright inwardly so those blessings overflow to struggling neighbors. You will know who they are, even if they do not reach out. You who are able must defend and go forth in courage.
I am the lost one
lost from the fold
the fold afraid to love
shaming and callous hearts
tore me to pieces
then He came, brought “Peace!”
upon His feet the creeping earth
never touched His robe
a ghostly body
hid the wounds, emptied the blood
rising above the crested land we inhabit.
I may never have told my story
had not one night
one prayer, one desperate plea
“God where are thee?”
beneath the distant moon, calculating
I lie, broken and bloody
ravaged by heartless flesh
He was the one between
life and death, death I pleaded
take my life that I may cease
the breaths I take too painful.
He could be a figment
my imagination run wild
a child with no grace
desperate for faces to smile
back towards her,
blessings of pardoning love.
Naysayers, I rebuke their scoff
the miles, the tolls
no dollars in my pockets
He bought my ticket to life.
I have never spoken so loud
my life lived in silence
until the dam broke loose
and flood waters coursed through the land.
Poet’s note: Some poems, for several weeks, will be quite raw. I struggle whether to share. I may regret I rip off the sackcloth to heal the wound. I hold my breath, rip and run!!! And if the poems disappear from my site, it may because sanity returns.
life bursts forth
fizzles to day-to-day survival
few fantastical hours between
fireworks and the beauty fizzles
cut away the rotten
clichéd ties to their birthed names.