Look into my face, can you see?
The sketches of my past
smiles and frowns etched with age
marks of honor, sun-baked.
Look into my eyes, can you see?
A reflection of yourself?
Glinting shadows sparkle and fade
To soften the hard edge life of late
Read between the lines of living
on the cusp of heaven, grow wings.
Ease, peace, please, appease.
Muster courage, move to light
Hand holding tight.
Look into my face, can you see
You?
Photo credit: Swiss Alps by Ilze Haynes (C) 2019
I’d lost the people I loved. In the midst of the daily decisions and jaw-clenching nightly invocation, all the notable ones were scarce and silent. Anger, sadness, and pain rolled around my vital organs and stuttered my speech meditating on thoughts of misdeeds and words misspoken that persisted in my mind. Here lies life, the new day begets another. This solemn song is sung in chorus in palliative waiting rooms, tall stories forgotten and oft-loved ones replaced by diagnostic faces – with wry, stale smiles. A hand lies upon them, hemmed in front and behind, an eye for an ego, release in freedom lie.
Down well-trodden trail
a chasm opens beneath
gazing down dreamily
the worlds of ancients meet
look down at all the hours and days
the rhymes, signs and verses
words and tokens exchanged
between us
The earth envelopes it
cast down to what lies beneath
all those endless numbered days
those staunch and bending ways
Now only soft firm ground lies
sighs gingerly between my feet
abundance of life groans
all around me
but yet I am still and quiet
longing for tomorrow once more
Featured image: Twig Bench by Alexia Wedding on Pinterest
“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
― Beryl Markham, West with the Night
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“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
― Kahlil Gibran
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“We’re going all the way ’til the wheels fall off and burn.”
― Bob Dylan
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“You made me happy and you made me laugh, and if I could do it all over again, I would not hesitate. Look at our life, at the trips we took, the adventures we had. As your father used to say, we shared the longest ride together, this thing called life, and mine has been filled with joy because of you.”
― Nicholas Sparks, The Longest Ride
The lights confuse us in the night
Tracking right to left and left to right
Steady beacon constant on the bow
Torch flashing sail; waves on metal plough
All eyes front, gazing at the steady stream
Of fishermen, leisure yachts passing near abeam
Pitch black warrior of steel, cruising twenty knots
Through a minefield of coral reef and sandy spots
In the dead of night watch, that steady light ahead
Lost our nerve, our confidence, woke captain from his bed
Stop all engines, reassess, ignore the fuming Nav
No saving face, or gold of rank, sleeping sailors we have
Keep them safe, secure in racks dreaming of their home
On the bridge the young watchkeeper has eyes like radar dome
It was the year I did execute the perfect come ’round
Aft of the Nottingham, the day before it ran aground
Ashes in lashes,
Dust becomes rust
Enter this Temple,
in You I trust
.
Three stones at the altar
Five moors to the creek
Seven days for hunting
Nine chains that peak
Ironclad crosses
the blood that seeps,
red through this armour,
wounds what weeps…
Enter this Temple,
enter it full,
From the grove, the forest —
my Lord, my Rule
(C) Christine Ueri
I came upon a midnight clear,
following a star,
traveled over dark terrain
not measuring how far.
Finally I came near
to where the Saviour lay,
peering in I caught a glimpse,
a baby in the hay.
Though many were drawing near
I stealthily kept pace.
At the entrance to the room
I saw a hardened face.
“Can I come in?” I humbly asked.
“I’ve no incense, oil or gold
I bring myself to worship him”
The One whose birth foretold.
The keeper of the entrance
Looking down on me, grim
Took in my appearance, said
“I cannot let you in,
you’re not a king, bearing gold
and oil is for the dead!
Your incense is not pleasant
perhaps you’d bring a ram instead?”
I fled away to distant land
and waited for the time
to meet him when he grew
to know this Saviour is mine.
I heard every Word He said
from his birth to the tomb
in the streets, or temple court
sitting in the outer room.
When finally His breathing stopped
My heart nearly did too
I waited near and mourned the day
Not knowing what to do.
When he arose he conquered death
His grace had found a way
to make my gift acceptable
Now I await the day,
When I can see Him come again
I need not touch His wounds.
I have felt them for myself
and long for His coming soon.
——————————–Earth image source
Count the stars of heaven 