The Healing – Letters From The Village

March 11, 2013March 11, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

There is a place
Planted, sacred, holy
Somewhere
In the light, separated
No darkness
There at all
That quietly waits to drip the peace

Where wrinkles smooth,
Hurt heals, tears dry
Love prevails and grace rains down
Pelting, puddling pools of amazing
Grace

And there is a place
in the middle of life
Where forgiveness is holy
Set apart, the seed of unforgiveness
Separated from the soil
Plucked from a compost, mix of blackened sin
Parched place of holding fast

Struggle, sister, not in vain
To kill the root of hurt and pride
Resist the pull to hold to hurt
Let it go and breathe the breath of hope
New and fresh
The living hope that circles round the tender
Scars

And there settles in the folds
Of human flesh
A simple healing balm
Poured out by all the
But God’s we’ve ever read
Which lead when followed to a sacred place
Though drenched by oceans
Of your grief
The drying has begun in part

And there rests a holy mystery
A rising from the ashes
Mixed with rivulets of tears
A birthing of redemption
Burst forth, life new
Nested in the arms of tender loving
Grace
The mystery of mercy
Shall be a mystery while
We see this side of glory
But through fragile human eyes
If you should ask to glimpse forgiveness
Through heaven’s lens
The mystery dims, it fades
A faith restores wholeness in the healing
Worthy of a alleluia chorus and
Man’s boldest cries of amen.

So sing a song of healing
Whisper soft
Or trumpet loud

But fold in the notes
Of sweet forgiveness
And let the
Redemption song begin.

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joining sweet Laura full of grace at Laura Boggess dot com for her Playdates at The Wellspring and with Jen at findingheaventoday dot blogspot.com

Bending Into The Blue

March 6, 2013March 6, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 10 Comments

bending into the blue

we’re dusted up a bit
after a storm blew through
roughed us up a bit too
the days cracked open like
a meteor fell from the
heavens
akin to the Russian one
the cracks wide
like caverns of crazy
gaping
and then death marched around
this place
in twos again, but it could be three soon
we’re dusted up a bit with
death and sadness

but we bend into the light
till the ground to bury roots
not heads
hold them high
toward the light, it pierces the dark
and melts the frozen sheets of sadness
the calm after the storm
can’t come soon enough
we look for redemption to sing loud soon

we are still dusted up a bit
like we were thrown off a horse at the rodeo
bruised the tender places
like the heart and soul
more than the backside
pain wakes up the sleeping
it rocks and jolts
realigns
cold water on the face wakes up the
ones dozing off into complacency
smacks the sleeping from their slumber

we were banged up a big
surprised by the sting
rocked by the moving currents
blizzard conditions prevailed awhile
bundle up hold on hunker down
when the artic blast comes your way
put the covering on, layers and layers of
the garment he gives
the full armour

but we bend into the blue
the color of strength
IBM chose it for a reason
the meek shall inherit the earth
and these are the days leading up to
more of it, redemption
the robin’s eggs and bluebirds will deliver spring
and songs will awaken the frozen earth
praise has a way of healing the broken
Lord we are ready, the table is set

we are bending into the blue
the color of heaven
we cried to them, the celestial places
loud and long, joined by a chorus of angels
we are certain we heard their harmony
we’re made strong when weak
because heaven heard and hears
our cries
he sees the sparrow and we are seen
bruised, busted, broken, blue in spirit

bend into the blue with me
the color of grace and mercy
there is melting of the pain
when the light comes down and warms our
frozen frigid frosty souls and hearts
out of the blue
the sting of death
has lost its sting
a bit

we are bending
bowing
praising
and singing
together

into the blue

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joining emily and the imperfect prose community for some words on redemption

Poetry, Always

March 3, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Poetry Always

In the middle of crashing thunder, noise grinds to a halt.

On the edge of charcoal skies, radiant glory shines.

Into the broken places, healing.

Plaster walls

Whisper into chambers

Set the captive free with prayers,

Always, poetry.

Wash over the wounded

Cry out a modern day psalmist’s lament or praise

Proclaim beauty wrapped in words

Of poetry.

Leave the world for moments only

Through the portal carved gentle by a phrase or two

Of not prose,

But poetry.

Befriend the friendless, mount up to the highest heights

Go up with a word, lay it down,

An offering,

Always leave the gift of poetry,

Penned in grace, bound up with strands of love,

Potent packages of

Poetry.

Joining Tweetspeak Poetry and 100 Sweet Bloggers for some poetry with Wordcandy.

Post Cards – Letters From The Village

February 28, 2013February 28, 2013 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

POSTCARDS

Right round the corner
On the edge
As far as we could see
There is nothingness
We wish you were here
Its been great to get away from it all
The weather is
Perfect, thank you
For getting our mail
And our paper
Placed at our door with room service
Is excellent
We spent the day seeing
Everything
Here is fine
Hoping to come back one day and bring
You must come visit
Never have we seen such beauty
No rain in
Sight seeing nonstop
Unseen, nothing like the brochure but we can’t complain it is really
Perfectly lovely
This sent with love
More tomorrow, the view is spectacular
We couldn’t fit everything in
And we fall into bed at night
The stars seem brighter
Here, they lost our bags
So far away from the city
No where to shop
You must put this place on your list
Though it’s not really on any maps
Get this off before they close
Never thought I would have my
Fill of good food
The Locals are nice, very pleasant
Not what we expected at all
Things aren’t always as they seem.
Wish you were here
And there
Will definately be a return trip planned
May never get the chance to come back
Seeing it all this go around.

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