If

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

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If

If I  bend, stoop and reach
At the sound of the cold North wind
And the rugged and raging sea
Harmonizing with the  creak
Of my wrinkled, old,  boney knees
A symphony of natural beauty
Stirs my soul as I search
For treasure left lying along the shore
For me
For me
For me

If the curve of my back is a bold black cleft
Or more like a twisted ampersand
And my heart beat slows
At the sight of gifts the generous sea has left
I wonder then
And now if

I raise the conch to my ear to hear
WIll the answers pour out
Or just sediment, sand and dirt

Will it whisper the secrets
I have walked here to find
Resting in windswept wet
And dry, brittle sand
Will it answer my questions
One at a time
Simple and clear
Plain for this wanderer
In search
Of clarity, comfort, forgiveness and
Peace

Or when the shell
Is pressed cold to my cheek
Will I  hear only hauntingly
Monotone whispers
Familiar yet coded
That sound like the sea
A white noise of shushing and whooshing
Moans from the earth, like a chant from the monks
Worshipping high in the hills

And if that’s all that enters my soul
By way of my cold pink ear
The comfort of a lullaby fresh from the
Mouth of the ocean floor
That is more than enough
For me
For me
For me

It is miracle
Marvelous
Mystery

And I am now no longer in need
I want nothing, nothing
More
I have heard peace be with you
From the lips of the Sea.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Joining Jennifer Dukes Lee for #tellhisstory and Emily for #imperfectprose

On Second Thought

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

wpid-20140118_161227.jpgThough forward is the best way to ride this pony
She is a bucking bronco these days
Going through it, not around it is the new black
We wade through mire and muck, almost daily
To get to the other side
Crossing that River Jordan, against the tide
Hope is our water wings
Wearing hip boots and waders
Given to us at birth, we
Cross
Redemption’s froth and foam
Splashing us, reviving us, saving us
Oh Lord my strength and my redeemer.

On second thought
It is all about the journey
It is the wading and crossing
The pluff mud soiled garments
That say
I got down and dirty
I lived
Not high and dry
Not Clorox clean
But travel weary and worn out

Traveling, still
Facing forward
No milk toast Kumbaya’s
But rather
A raucous rant and rave
Of an old spiritual sung from the
Laborers in the field
That’s our battle-cry

And Gloria Gaynor’s
“I Will Survive”
Played on repeat with those soulful
Spirituals from back in the Southern day
Not hanging on, surviving
But thriving, surviving
Running the good race
Well and good
Knocked down
Got back up again
Well

On second thought
I am in the belly of the whale
But safe in His arms
I am on the roadside, loved
By the Samaritan
Man he is good
And I am writing from prison
As Paul
Yet I am free

Oh journey you teach well and good
Oh journey
I am in the saddle, saddle sores and all
But I am facing ever toward the Cross
Wearing my water wings of hope

Your Rod and Staff comfort me
And I am humming Gloria Gaynor
And the Hallelujah chorus
And those cotton picking ballads from the
Painful places of our past, down South
Banjo on my knee
Harmonica in my mouth.

At the fork in the road
Go straight toward redemption
And don’t look back.

+++++++++++++++

Joining Laura Boggess for #playdateswithGod and Michelle at Michelle De Rusha dot com

Imagining

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

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Imagining

She curled up in his lap
Buried her face in her hands
And ran
Imagined world without end amen
The lost were found
All fear removed
Like coring an apple
Making it safe
Fear extricated
The seeds no longer there
To choke or spoil.

She lay down on a bed with Hope
After praying real and loud and hard
Knelling  worn-out knees on a wooden floor
Wrote her modern Psalms,
Asking, no begging
For life void of fear, recalling
Floods of faithfulness
Hearing whispers
Harbingers
Forecasting peace
At last, peace at last.

She looked out at the silver moon
Imagined her torso cloaked in borrowed armor of  brave
Stepping on shadows then into the light
Pondering what to wear
Battles need armor
Customized
Just her size
Fit matters, it must be precise
No borrowing armor
Like worry

No ill-fitting suit of another
Bare skin for battle

Choose wise she heard
In the still of the night
To wear bold
And brave
By day
And by night
Imagine
Look left and look right

Imagine
All fear’s been
Removed from this place

I love you, I heard you
Go, run your race
Imagine the wings  I’ve
Sewn to your back
Fly
Unencumbered, fly fast, fly free
At last
Sweet dreams as
She lay curled up in his lap.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Joining my dear friend Sandra Heska King at Sandra Heska King dot com 

The Sun Unleashed

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 1 Comment

wpid-IMG_20140203_110600.jpgThe Sun Unleashed

The sun unleashed its radiant heat
Reminding me  it was still there,
Still very much alive
A diamond gilded tiara worn by her, proudly from on high
The crown of glory beams from her home
A cerulean azure sky
Though every shade and hue of gold
Is cast down from above
There remains residual cold
From a time not that long ago
And just because the sun may shine
I cannot find my way
Just yet
For I am stalled and stuck
And a little left behind

Still lingering in  a winter of the soul.

But I am hopeful
And aware of grace
They never left
Neither of these two
Both mercifully
Remain, a blanket, a covering
Attend me even now
And patiently they wait for me
Call me to come out and play

They’ve gone ahead to melt the ice and snow
And promise to return
To warm my heart one day
Thaw out
These places that remain
Frozen

A little dark and cold

The sun unleashed
Its power today
And I know Hope will lead me
Into Spring
Where new life regenerates
Erupts, painting everything in every hue and shade of green
And we’ll forget
The cold and dark
No memory of this season
We’ll leave it all behind

And thank the unleashed lioness
The day the wild and fiercely glorious
Sun, she could not
Not shine.