The Gate Called Beautiful

Long, gray, empty days

head lowered, watching every shuffling step

careless, care-filled

                      Invisible

silent, lonely

hands curled 

      empty

aching to be touched

I saw nothing-

dirt and dust, hurrying feet

Felt smaller

less valuable with every passing hour.

Began to wonder if I ever had worth, value

Was I ever loved? Could I be? Would I be?

Ceased looking up with hope

should someone pause

eyes ever downcast lest they see the truth of my pain

Smiled a watery, dismal smile

extended a barren empty vessel

Begging the smallest crumb of notice

Until that day

Felt you take my hand

The warmth of your touch

the strength of your grasp

You pulled my to my feet

Looked me in the eye

Smiled

Saw me-

           truly saw me

The warmth of your embrace flooded frozen limbs

Knees trembling my toes began to move

the rhythm of some deep cosmic song...

I could not contain it

I leapt

I sang

I danced

Your laughter kissed away doubt

Your smile filled me

Your touch brought healing to places

I never knew were broken

I did not even know were broken

Beggar's robes cast off

You re-clothed me,

led me into Beautiful

My Name

Before there was time

          you spoke.

Whispered my name;

          even as you called stars and trees and mountains to be.

In Mother's arms

           you spoke

Murmured my name into her heart,

sang it to me, my lullaby

Storms raged around me-

fear and loss and doubt

But,

  called soft under the wind

my name, your voice,

 my knees weak,  my heart dares again to hope

Tender on Lover's lips

        carried on the evening breeze

            you spoke.

My Name

And I knew who I Am

(John 20:16)

Quiet Places

In the deepest stillness the Aria of Truth overwhelms the noise of lies...

Rare Treasures
                   these
  Quiet Places....
         
           Savour
the scent of sunlight on autumn grass;
 the taste of amethyst Merlot-
      rich and heady;
the Song of Memory-
            little boys laughing

Dust motes dancing.

                   these

    Silent Spaces...

        Imbibe
the taste of ink and yellowed pages turning
 the scent of amber coffee
        rich and heady
the Melody of Dream-
          heartbeat conversations
                     eyes and hands and lips

Dust motes dancing.

   Quiet Places
                    these
 Rare Treasures.

******

Fear

Fear

A gnat humming in my ear,

fluttering just inside the line of my vision

Irritating, annoying but insignificant.

A brief wave of my hand, a flick of my finger

I brush it away.

A yapping dog, nipping at my ankles,

twining between my legs, making me stumble.

Persistent, insistent, aggravating

I speak sharply, shooing 

kicking it aside 

And now,

Now

Fire breathing, winged dragon

Eyes blazing green, angry tail whipping at me

I fall, grappling for my sword

It looms over me, wings flapping lazily

daring me, challenging me, threatening me.

I swallow the heavy lump in my throat,

flex my fingers, re-grasping my gleaming weapon,

square my shoulders and step toward it.

Lunging-

parry, thrust,

press forward, fall back,

the eternal dance.

My back is to the abyss, forcing the creature upward,

rounding spiraled stair

Behind it I glimpse the gilded gates of home

Behind me icy wind whispers around my neck

My strength is failing, my steps falter,

weary tears blind me

The beast roars

And in sudden fury I roar in reply

The gates swing open

I force the beast back once more with the last of my will

It staggers on the mirrored courtyard

Whimpers and shrivels,

A gnat I can crush with my heel