On Finding A Quiet Place

IMG_20150526_161127

On Finding A Quiet Place

There is a paradox in these hours spent awake asleep on the sea
Uncertain at what it is
Exactly
That lies below
Confident in what we see
The surface gives a nod with this very much alive
Twinkling
Like a million silly winks
Her countenance shines, her invitation to join her
We slap slap slap the wet wild surface, with little boat we trust
Like an old man slaps a toe-headed child’s back
In an overly familiar act of brutal love

We grant the mystery of the unseen
A sweet secret keeping place
We have seen them released to us
Confidence builders left as fragmented treasures
Gifts from the sea, encrypted letters
We read always, between the lines

We are here
By choice and grace
A combination which comes around in life
More often than I can count
Though it feels rarer than a left handed conch
At times
We must speak it, in unison
To remember it is true

We have found a quiet place
Gathering moments
Away from our shore
Lost for awhile
At the mercy of the mysterious
Deep blue sea

We must whisper it, in a prayer voice
To Him
In salty, sea-foamed gratitude

+++++++++++

Please join me at my new writing home, “A Quiet Place For Words”. A place I have carved our for pulling words through the blank canvas of the page. It is quiet there. And I am settling in and unpacking in this new place. Still blogging here, but making a home too for you and me in a subscriber only format. Click here to sign up (A Quiet Place For Words) It is free. I like it there. But more importantly, I hope you do.

Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday

Advertisements

In Just A Moment

wpid-screen-shot-2014-10-01-at-1.48.07-pm.png

Thank you for joining me.You breathe life into this space and into this series. Your presence here is a tremendous gift.
Today is Day 4. To catch up and read the series in its enirety, click here or click the tab at the top of this home page marked #write31days2014-Postcards From Me, elizabeth w. marshall
wpid-img_20140929_154946.jpg

wpid-20141004_0932290.jpg

In Just A Moment

The earth will tilt and lean
Press her face against the foggy
Glass
Look at us
As we at her
We play a game of stare
Poker faced, straining
To not  look away and miss
The micro moments
She presents

What if every moment
That we see
Capture with our glassy pupiled lens
Was meant to savor
Fragrant earthen soil
And well-lit canvases
She lends

To gather up the
Remember when’s
In just a moment

She will tilt again
Continue
On her race around the galaxy

Each moment that she gives to me
In fractured minutes as I blink
To tuck into my memory folds
Filled with all the grainy, dull and fading
Remember whens
But
I will still say

I remember when
The sun rained down on the precipice of stone-grey rocks
Magnificent
And magnified by a gurgling
Rushing mountain stream
That perfect October day
Destined to meet
The beauty of the earth and I
For I was there
Gifted
With a front row seat

And in just a moment

We were gone
Fragile is life’s middle name
++++++++++++

wpid-img_20141002_090234.jpg

wpid-img_14659227963018.jpeg

cropped-wpid-img_20140929_170447.jpg

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

Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday

A Thousand Hands Have Passed By Here

wpid-img_20140823_123901.jpg

A Thousand Hands Have Passed By Here

Maybe hundreds more
But
There was no one there to count

A well-worn wooden handrail
Documents for us

But she will not give up secrets
Of all the living that has come by here
The hurried ones
Tiny pink bare feet
Scampering off to bed
To dream under a mountain quilt, tucked
Under
Crisp cool sheets
As trains go up and down
The mountain tracks
Singing them to sleep

The tired ones who will wake
Before the sun and putter down
The stairs, running wrinkled fingers
Along the smooth and weary rail
Worn by love and life and time
Holding up the aged, the weak and frail

Guardian of more than
One Hundred years of living
Well-traveled
Quiet story-keeper 
Stairwell of this
Old home

Perhaps the next hand, left
Or right from generations
Coming up and down 
Traveling through this  place
Will be a hand of healing
Offering
Sacred grace

Pray blessing and forgiveness
Over those who’ll come here too

Perhaps
There will be a thousand more
Hands traveling down the rail
Bearing witness to 
Humility and redeeming love
For generations still to come

For scores and scores of lifetimes
More
May scamper up to bed
Up, then down, down then up
Living, loving,
In this family place

A thousand hands have passed by here

So
Walk quiet now
Soft and slow and reverently
So
You may hear the tales
Echo in the halls
Wisdom from sojourners
Who came by here before
Pass on stories of
Their living
Loving strong and hard
For years and years

Within these pine-board walls

wpid-img_20140823_123141.jpg

Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday

Life Through The Lens Of Poetry: A Guest Post At Sandra Heska King’s Blog

Today I am honored to be a guest writer at   Sandra Heska King dot com. Won’t you join me there. I am telling a bit of my own journey into poetry. I would be honored to have you click here to follow me and my words over there. Come on…. let’s take a walk into a poetic adventure. Sandy is giving away a copy of  Tania Runyan’s Book “How To Read A Poem“. And she is also giving away two subscriptions to Every Day Poems. The most beautiful daily poetry in your email inbox anywhere.

Empty beach shadow profile