Things That Never Were

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Things That Never Were

If all the words that never were
written down
never were allowed to
leave
the fingertips
and all the souls that were called
to come
never came and sat a bit
lingering on the warm sweet breathes
never hearing the sound
of every silent word
that never left
a heaving heavy laden chest
swollen, wrapped in anxiousness

never stopped to stay awhile
nor sit
and tell the stories of the simple things
in a wooden chair
creaking, slow
while rocking back and forth
side by side out on the wide and open
porch

and all the joy that was due
a pregnant waiting
never giving birth
never delivering

you or you

and all the colors that were mixed and meant
to
stamp out dreary shades of
white and black
melancholy of a two-toned world
never were

and you had never come to me
never with a kiss upon your lips
nor flowers, mixed bouquet
picked from the garden
that was never planted on our land
and  I had never come to you
what a love-less nothing
life would be
untold stories of un-lived lives
that never were

left out of all the dreams
and even out of our imaginings

void

the never were’s

of you and me

amazing grace has written
instead
stories too beautiful to tell
or so it nearly seems

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joining Laura at The Wellspring for Playdates With God

One Day I Will Write A Poem

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One Day I Will Write A Poem

Before my memory fades
Like shadows on the outskirts
Dim, pale watermarks of life
Growing fainter by the day

Before my words are lost
Somewhere in the forest, thick and dark
Dispersed among the pines and moss
Seedlings of a scattered memory

Capturer of the runaways
Gatekeeper of a million puzzle pieces
That tell a story
That is me
That is me

Before they steal away
Escape into a murky sea
Lost among  forgotten things

Buried in the soil
Of remembering
Hidden from my poetry

Locked out
After every door is closed
And bolted shut

And there is no more
Poetry
That mirrors the
Soul of me

Before that final day
Without a memory

I will write a poem, one day

Turning Corners

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Cancer came
Shadow-lurker
Stalker, thief
Took (euphemism for her thievery)
Hauled away some valuables
Uninsured, gone for good
Precious jewels, antiquities
Time laced in silver threads of
joy
Stories of the disease
Giving too
Hovering
Somewhere
Perhaps,
My eyes will see them
Once again

Around the corners of a rounded globe
Are wars,
beyond mere rumors
Rather, raw, real, raging
Robbing
My ears have heard of hidden
Gifts
Tucked  in the outskirts of the pain
Perhaps
My ears will behold the
Telling,
Once again

Dementia crept in
Beneath the shadows
Into the soul of those I love and loved
Stealing memories by the thousands
Robbing us of stories still not told

But I have held the gifts,
Frail, wrapped in parchment
In my ever-wrinkling hands

Gifts uncovered in the dark
Those revealed by light of day
I’ve held these too,
Too many to tell
Entitled
Redemptive love
Story without end, amen

Waiting captures me
Clothes me
Wraps me in robes of knowing
Assures me to

just

Turn the corner
Once,
Again
Touched by a ghost-like
garment passing by
a holy haunting
Threads of silky hope

Redemption clothes us
On the heels of waiting
Out of  moth-balls
I unwrap
Velvet, violet
Comfort from a garment
The ancient
Robe of holy peace

At last.

 

 

Joining Laura for Playdates at The Wellspring

 

What Do You Say

what do you say dear

 

 

What Do You Say

When
Her lips belong to a mouth
Pursed, silent
Frozen
Inches from a slightly breaking heart

Connected by sinew, muscle and bone

To one single solitary
Pair of  hands
Reaching for a father,
Aching,
with a broken memory
Arms joined by joints and blood
Stretched in love to a broken mind

As a mother

Her hands reach for a leaving
Child
Growing up
Going off
Grasping for adulthood
Straddling her youth

Bound by love
To one who is weary
Worried, tossed
Turning and churning
Yet still, a comforter in times of

Need
I say more

But there is
That pair of ears
Latched on
To words of a young man
Planning to marry
Love launches from the mouth of a man
Steeped in love
Who was just a boy
Digging in deep, rooting his love

It would all be so perfect

If someone would say
To her

Dear, this life is filled
With beautiful broken
Shards
Of life

What would you say
While

Silently wiping her tears

I would say
I love you

 

 

 

Joining sweet Laura at The Wellspring