Gracious Spring Tide

Horizons open out behind and before my eyes

Where once closed lids were anointed by the sky

A feast of coloured feathered wings adorn the quiet street

Where once a common sparrow was admired

Sprigs of white blossoms litter the greenway edges

Where once the swarm of pests had devoured

A window bush explodes in yellow flowers and vivid green

Where once the worm had eaten all bud and leaf

 

The Springing Sun adorns my bedroom mirror and wall

Where once the light was blinding and the shades my coverall

Pale green new leaves float dreamily on the warm soft breeze

Where once apologies for the diseased tree next door

A drone of bees parade along the front blooming tower

Where once a drone of ghostly voices furled my brow

Little boy lambs bleat delight in hands and friends

Where once they fended alone as eagle descends

 

The tower clock is bypassed for the bustling doctor’s street

Where once the sanctity of pillowed pews was sweet

Hopeful conversations in the sun and houses meet

Where once mere imaginings of popular masses to greet

How ready as we’d ever been to step into Unknown

Where once control had reigned and error was shown

Faces, I daily pray and long to see an Image old

Where once their living wisdom was untold

20170625_151555
Street Art, Konstance, Germany. By ‘Nilko and Rusl’
Advertisements

Nothing but the Blood

I gave away my feathers to a wounded bird, mid-flight

She fondled in her fingers and gazed at colours bright.

Both of us now cold, I wandered down the pale pink hall

Warmed by hands and hearts – reciting heaven, gold, gems and all.

With bravery I wore a cross-shaped medal I didn’t earn

A signed and sealed commission of men has joined the funeral burn.

Though many think the flow of blood is death, despair and strife

I know for sure it’s freedom from guilt and our eternal life.

The darkness that I wear will not do for wedding ball

Patiently, I changed the feathers for a pure white shawl.

 

 

Image credit

Story Bones

story bones

flesh full tales of woe

clenched between lips and teeth

willing foes pull to throw

growling low

tighter till we had our fill

of sinewy knuckle-down

marrow of will

no contest met

nor tissue left

parade around the outside wall

to paddock graves of earthen domes

in quiet of night the remains give way

the story flowers grow tall

Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash

____________________________

Photo credit:

Warren Wong

Castle of my mind

A woman’s mind is her castle.

I grew up and out of these ancient walls aglow with music and memories, buried bones under flowerbeds.

The tables fed my darling boy while I was out at sea, the halls lined satin waistcoats with ballad hospitality.

Where as a child I slept dreamily in the soft white principal suite, as a woman her soft words built up integrity.

The art inspired, the books provoked, the piano begged to be played…

Like the man climbing the ivy for the belle of the ball, we’ll build our minds and break down walls and then we’ll dance till three.

Our babes will bask in the afterglow, after all, we’ve been set free.

collegecalf_small1

The Women’s College, Sydney – 1892 –

 

 

Here Freedom lies

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.

IMG_5348 (1)

Terra Firma

twig-bench-lavendar

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

How long?

All I long for is communitas
Missio Dei a valid task
How long, O Lord, can I sustain
agape?img_4825

‘Clock face made by convicts – hospital for the insane’ Willow Court New Norfolk, Tasmania.

Past-love archive

“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

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

willow court insane asylum new norfolk, tasmania

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
Kahlil Gibran

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

willow court gardens new norfolk, tasmania

“We’re going all the way ’til the wheels fall off and burn.”
Bob Dylan

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

antique cars willow court gardens new norfolk, tasmania

“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

Restoration

It’s the things that aren’t said that hurt the most.

I can hear the tower clock chime from my pillow

It is the only constant I hear.

But even this clock;

I envy the care and attention

it receives for its restoration.

I hope to have its constancy at heart.

Spiritus Sanctus:

‘O Holy Spirit, as the sun is full of light, the ocean full of water,

Heaven full of glory, so may my heart be full of thee.’

The Valley of Vision