Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Dripping Days
Gentle dripping days,
a soft soak on a sucking parched sand,
makes me smile,
umbrella in hand,
camera in hand–a balancing act fed by passion and sighs.
Words
Bits and pieces,
simple strokes here and there
with power to slice to the heart, to dismember and wound,
power to elevate to the skies, to swell dashed hope,
locks to bind,
deceits to blind,
keys to free and give life,
simple strokes that change the world.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Faith in the Wood
The wild risk calls me in, but
fear weights my ankles.
It’s that fear that has hobbled my whole life.
The fear of the unknown,
the fear of betrayal,
the fear that call will not be greater than calamity.
If I could just see to the other side and know,
and not be blocked by wood upon wood upon wood.
But I’m heading in and up,
fear in my pocket, resolve in my heart
because the wild faith risk calls me on.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Mail Bonding
About apronheadlilly
wife and mother, musician, composer / poet, teacher, and observer of the world, flawed Christ-follower
This entry was posted in Humor, Photography and tagged Boulder, CO, humor, mailboxes, photography. Bookmark the permalink. Edit
The Dark Press
Even when I’m laughing, I’m crying in some small part of me–
the part that sees the light, but feels the dark press over my shoulder.Close.
Sure steps are only as sure as this fragile moment,
for life is fractured, tenuous, and
those who forget are lost.
Even when I’m laughing, I’m crying
for redemption.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
This One Moment
The past clings to me–wraps itself around my ankles;
footfalls of memory drag my faith down.
The future looms big yet empty,
filled with possibility–often empty of direction.
But I have this moment.
I have this moment to seek,
to surrender,
to die to self.
I have this moment to be kind,
to be devout,
to love.
And I will leave the past and the future to God
for I have this one moment
to live.
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