Slaying Dragons

Slaying Dragons

Sometimes we, the royal one, and I
We need paradigm shifts.

Crave, no hunger for, new normals
Feel the burning desire, the fire in the belly
For radical, get with the program plans
Or better yet, write new ones.
That color wild and bold and tempestuously
Outside the lines
White-out replacing old with new
Marking gloriously fresh borders
In pen, not pencil.

And with
Ear to the ground, we hear
Hooves and heartbeats,
Like wild bulls, joining wild horses
In a throwing-the-dust-up maddly in the air,

And depart for a good long while
The dog-in, dog-out
Cat-in, cat-out days
To raise
The roof
And the wrist, the ventrical vessel for the overflow of
The fiercely beating

Pick up dragging feet, or dragging pen
And maybe even an imaginary sword
With the sharpest blade words, not metal
Can make

Foot in stirrup, mounted on horseback
Maybe even two feet
Planted firmly there

And for once and for all

Slay the dang dragons

Who will find themselves pitifully piled up
In the corner, shaking with fear
And trembling
Cowering at the sight

Of one bold and brave
Writer, warrior, woman


Dedicated with love and admiration to the following three women in my world: Amanda Hill, Maggie Wynne, and L.L. Barkat. Slay on.


A Picture Is Worth, Well Something


The Patient One and I got in the car and drove an hour and a half to visit a church yesterday.

And studied possibility and new and change and weighed some options, as much as man can. For in all the weighing there is really more of a  a wondering, what does He have for us in these months and days to come. As we make decisions at the prompt of His will and opening of doors and opportunity. Abundance on the other side of the stepping off and into a life.

My mind was swirling a bit with my post for today. You know the one where she writes looking over the shoulder, reflecting with sentiment and sap, good sap not bad sap, or with thankfulness and the benefit of hindsight, all twenty twenty. You know the one all covered in out with the  old and in with the whatever. I have a love hate relationship with cliches. They are just so cliche. They can’t help it really that’s what they are. I digress.

What if life is just more of a beautiful continuation and less of a stop and start of days and years. Just a generous outpouring of well, life.

My mind was swirling a bit about the what was and what will be. And then I saw this and I could not and cannot stop thinking of what it says as it sings to my soul. And it does that. It whispers and sings and it is so sweet.

It is the beauty in the ash.

It is the hope in things to come.

It’s the new and tender mercy on the other side of pain and disappointment.

It is the unexpected joy.

And I can’t stop starring like an awkward teenage boy at the sight of a beautiful young girl. The picture is romancing me. It is calling to the dark and out of the dark.

There were no rolled eyes when I asked him to stop. Well really screamed stop. He slammed on the breaks when I saw the scene and screamed stop here I have to take a picture.

There was no hesitation. There was accomodation.

When Beauty calls and the world speaks and we stop to listen there is story and lesson and meaning and yes singing too. To a soul.

So I will muse a little in my soul about resolution and change and dreams and desires.

I will plan and weigh and dance around a list of life to-do’s.

But mostly I will dream with an expectancy and hope. I will launch my soul into the days of all that I see in this picture taken after church on the last Sunday in 2012.

Beauty rising from the soil of cold December.

Tender new blanketing the Earth in abundance with pale yellow joy, reaching for the Heavens.

 Seeing past the rusted bars and branches of death to a  beautiful hope.



2013 facebook

Joining Laura for the last Monday in 2012.