Tag: Inspiration

Below The Surface

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

dolphin duo show offsHalf hidden
Half seen

Like

you
me

Tombstone gray, wet at play
Or is it work

And  I  believe I now know why

We launch our boat

Set out to see
The sleek and slippery
mammals  born
unto the sea

At edge of night
return home and anchor

Now knowing more of you
And more of me

The need to dive
And hide
below what’s seen
Exploring hidden
Memory buried things
Of life and passion
Stored  in stories
floating under foamy white crest waves
Of past and present
Needing to resurface
In desperate need of light and air

before we go back down again.

And why their dance below
And then above
the rocking waves
Is more than child’s play
Mirroring  our human ways

Of dodging, hiding, running scared
Then diving deep into the depths
Before returning
To the surface
Desperately in need of  light and air

And connection with another
Being
Where we should be living
Freed and
Free from

Shame set free
We are  featherless and floating
on the
Water once the

Hiding ends
And we all dance and dip and dive above the black blue horizontal line
Sleek and slippery
More like they
You  and I
Break through the surface, free to play
Where there is light
Where there is air.

I know now
Why we launch our boat
And float out on the sea
To find ourselves
Just

Below the surface.

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Joining Jennifer and Emily

Playfully Pretending

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

c.s. lewis quote

sometimes
after a long time of forgetting how
a solemn soul stands down
gives way to play
and rises up to say
that after the dark nights and winter days
the shortened hours of living lasted long but did not linger
and now is the hour of our play days
the ones where to do lists are short
but full
of things like fill the vase and light the grill
stare at stars and wish for fish
laugh too loud and eat three ears
of corn or more
and forgive what needs forgiving
forget the what is past perhaps
put forth a ball of clay out on the counter
roll it into scenes of wonder
let the cat in let her out
and sit back
and write a poem
playfully pretending you remember
how to play

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Joining Sandra Heska King today for Simply Saturday

On Vulnerability and Brene Brown: The Road To Joy, Part One

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall


hat on the boatWe are little communities of me’s, I’s and selves.

And sticking our feet into the water of vulnerbility or diving straight in and swimming freely around can be a lonely act. Or a cleansing act.

(Please join me for the rest of my words on vulnerability over at Emily Wierenga’s where I am hosting Emily’s Imperfect Prose on Thursday, Join me and other writers as we explore redemption, in words, in life and in community.) And would you consider returning tomorrow for Part Two of my post “Vulnerability: The  Road to Joy”.

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Joining dear Jennifer for #tellhisstory at Jennifer Dukes Lee dot com

Waiting

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

wpid-2013-04-10-15-36-36-1High up on my horse, a turquoise bike
This day’s form of traveling
A trio of dogs grinds me to a stop
Gathers for awhile
Sniffing wet black noses
Sparking a human interchange
Of neighbors who live quietly
With all their secrets
Needing to be released and shared
This one   grips and grinds, my heart’s beats
Like rusty bike chain needing oil
Now days have passed, the rain has come
And I am still marinating in her words.
I shall ride my bike again.
Go looking for more stories
The  kind that tell of life’s delays.
And take myself on hunts to gather
Words of what comes after waiting.

Sometimes stories come to you
Wet with grief and ripe with pain
Ones that bear no smile of waiting
Forty years to own your boxer dog
The one you rescued from the pound.

Sometimes the stories come to you
Drenched in pain and open wounds
Of marriages that break apart
Of babies that were due to come but haven’t yet
Of children who will not wear a cap and gown
The ones of jobs that slip away
The ones of lives that rip and shred, financial ruin
Cancer cripples men
Faith rumbles like the thunderous spring storm sky
Whispering why while pressing onward

Houses meant to close but don’t
Moves and jobs and men and deals
Churches, reconciliation, children
Time stands still for those who wait
But there are stories of redemption
They tell of purpose in the pauses
I cannot hear them loud enough.

And I
Hunched and hovering
I wait with baited breath unsteady
Will my boxer come to me
Dodging all the tired and warn out
Cliched comments for the weary
For the lonely, sad and hurting
How strange her wait was held to forty
Now I want to know her more
For there are holy others called to waiting
In the desert
Called to hold
On for longer

Why
Oh why
Can’t I

With
Sacred
Grace
Hold
Hope
For
Human
Suffering
I
Feel
I
Know
Too
Much
I
Pray
I
Know
too

much

Joining Laura for Playdates at The Wellspring