skipped, hopped over
eight years gone missing
the quiet of forest -misleading
as the twisted twigs show
the contortion of thought
you had every reason to believe
the smile, wink and nod of moonlit glow
was your savior unknown.
sailing with me -you
wander, wonder it’s safer
living without us
Your hysteria -predictable
you’ve not sailed this boat before.
God and i -we aren’t talking.
Lost, between the sea and me
desires drowning beneath the skin.
a slow burn.
Remembering childhood days
running home for dinner
playing legos with your brother,
Why’d it have to end?
What shadows crept behind the sun
washed out memories,
lurk, no amount of fight
breaks their will,
rushing to and fro,
cause your world to explode -no
running home for dinner or reading Ranger Rick -no
your running for your life.
So many onions in the world these days. –Grocery store blues
Tears seen. Burn through my heart. Enough tears. I will put down the knife.
Finding solutions are easy when we never create problems to begin with. And when we harvest thoughts, root them out, be prepared to cry. The world keeps spinning and who can stop it, to get off? Put down the knife, I tell myself.
I put down the onion too.
Mirrors and reflections,
guilt and deflections,
someone show me the way out!
Through counselors and theories,
wrong ways and worries,
God patiently waits!
Do I cry in vain?
Lord, do you hear me?
Why should you listen,
anger hides in my heart!
You minister to me,
through friends and their blogs,
talking of seeing ourselves.
“Look in the mirror,
you are beautiful, dear,
do not hide beneath your sorrow!
Did I not promise you
along time ago
to restore all that has been taken?
Have you lost all faith
and belief in My power?
Did I not promise
to move the mountains
and give fresh water?
Water that never ceases.
I am the way, the truth and the life.”
to the fountain of life
and renews and revives!
Can I not see
all that I am meant to be
today, tomorrow and forever?
I have been down this dark road before and I surely do not like to admit it, especially to those who expect me to be happy and upbeat. Perhaps it is depression, sneaking up on me, seeing if I am aware of what is happening, as I slowly descend. This is the time that I cling to the Sweet Promises, that I am not alone in this world and that there are people who care about what happens to me and to you and to everyone, even those who we rather think are not deserving of love, since they cannot love.
The world is complicated. It does not have to be, but as people, incapable of living together harmoniously, we revert to old ways of being, slumping into a stupor, oblivious to what is going on around us, because we simply cannot change the world as we wish we could. I believe in absolutes. There is a way to follow that can bring true happiness, even amidst the chaos of the world, the complicated world. That road is narrow and many fail to keep on the path, either by choosing to take a turn or stumbling or falling into a pit so deep that even friendship alludes.
Yes, I am holding on for dear life because I know the alternate scenario. There is still a glimmer that catches my eye and moves me onward. Freedom is not free. It is paid for by sacrifice and whether it is by our own blood or the blood of another, freedom comes with a cost and the price is high. Love covers a multitude of sins. Demanding respect is not easily eaten when the bitter fruit of someone’s labor is acid in our eye. People brow-beating others into submission, without understanding why they are being forced, in a so-called freedom loving country, is hypocritical. It is all too familiar. There is no dialogue able to penetrate deaf ears and hard hearts.
Perhaps this is a wilderness or a desert road that we are ambling soberly on. Certainly these roads should be walked on with precautions. Everyone should be as clever as a serpent but as innocent as a dove.
Galatians 5:26 Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.
Poets as society’s conscious. This is what I was thinking while driving my son to pick up his prescription. I kept the words to myself, eager to get home, and do a quote search to see if anyone has ever thought a similar sentiment. Here is what I found:
Sigmund Freud said, from The Interpretation of Dreams (1899),
“The poets and philosophers before me discovered the unconscious; what I discovered was the scientific method by which the unconscious can be studied.”
To a point I understand Freud’s idea that poets and philosophers can sound the alert to what we experience, that is repressed and buried, to keep the status quo from erupting. I also see that at the same exact time, once society’s unconscious is uncovered, it is no longer hidden but a part of our conscious and from that there is no where to hide.
Theodor Adorno said “Writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric.”
Is it grace that pardons us from society or is it society that strips us of our grace? Collectively, we each should examine our motives and individually we should push forward with a smile. Tears inevitably are shed. Smiles must be consciously given.