Thursday, April 19, 2012

Gypsy lady

The gypsy lady’s gone to sleep
on a bed of thorns and roses
and one could say she’s dead
if not for the breath of life
flowing in and out.

The thorns beget a sob
and of the roses they beget
a sigh for things long gone
but she murmurs like a dreamer
held in the arms of love.

When eyelids flitter so, just so,
I think she’ll wake to be
a gypsy lady dancing
but still she sleeps; there must be grief
that keeps her comatose.

There’s a wilting now in process
as winter falls upon the scene
and soon no bed to lie upon
for that sleeping gypsy lady.

The gypsy lady’s gone to sleep,
there’s nothing left for her to keep,
and so she sleeps unmindful of
the dry and brittle soon to snap.

Pass by, pass by; there’s no desire
in eyes closed to a world
that offers up so many lies
in denial of the truth!

Monday, April 16, 2012

One tree

There once was a tree, though it could be you/me, standing alone in the cold with burdens untold weighing it down and keeping it tied to the ground but it soon came to pass that the sun, in the silent manner of love, warmed from the inner out and it looked to the sky blue and alive and knew of a power on high.

It uplifted itself from pain, from realms not meant to be seen, and it heard in the wind a whisper to grow and enfold God’s love in its being.  It heard and it knew but the world wasn’t new and everything stayed the same till lightening from God struck the core of its soul and moved it close to the sea.

It watched the waves, saw pleasure and praise, and asked that it too be set free, yet still its roots were sunk in the sand in the middle of no-man’s land.  And there it was left to suffer and grow till it bent its leaves to the sea and the sea in response crept nearer and near to the tree grown older alone.  

Sea laps at the roots of that lonely tree and swells with the weight of its tears till the tree in full obedience leans yet further towards the sea.  I can see it, can feel it, getting wet and wetter from the spray of how it must be and there will come a day when the sea rises up and the tree will find a new home.  

It waits and it listens, it learns and it grows, it blossoms the rose of its soul, so all who pass by can smile and say they know where it’s going to go.  It will go, it knows, but God sets the pace and prepares a new bed for the tree but the tree, or you/me, must still shade the path of those traveling towards the sea.

Close to the sea stands one beautiful tree for God has given it soul to feel and embrace the stars in the sky as its very own paradise.  There will be more, so very much more, both pleasure and pain alike, until the sea covers the tree like God’s love has covered you/me – always it seems for how can He leave what He has created to be whether a tree or only “you/me” who one day will reach  the sea! 

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Time and the river

Time and the river, oh, how they flow
and toil o’er the rocks of life
confined yet so diligently
forging a path to extinction.

Easier simply to know and accept
each has its own time line
that dictates the end of the journey
and makes them be as if not.

But I marvel at river’s fortitude
for it overcomes boulders and rocks
with never a tear, a sigh, shudder,
to tell of sheer agony.

But time, my time, leaves all up to me
and I can’t say there’s never a tear,
a sigh, a shudder, and sheer agony,
while embroiled in the overcoming.

Tomorrow perhaps with belief, faith, trust,
I’ll be like a beautiful river
content and peaceful just to “be”
until I reach the sea!