Vagabond

Carried from moment to moment
waiting for…..
uncertainty to reveal certainty
waiting for….
aha to replace hmmmm
waiting for….
breath giving rays to cover breathless shadows
waiting for….
extraordinary in the ordinary
waiting for….
silence to become voiced
waiting for….
gray to become yellow or blue
waiting for….
the moment that reveals a lifetime.

Book Store Praise

The door opened and there he stood,
Out of the way, against the wall,
Was he coming or going?
I’m not sure he thought he should.

He found his way through the bookshelves
amongst the make believe and the deepest of hearts.
He stood with arms raised, palms up, and eyes closed.
Spirit filled ripples reached across the room from where he stood,
I stopped….knowing I should.

I should stop for a moment and breathe in his praise,
his faith seen on his tired worn face.
It didn’t matter that his hair was unkept,
or the hem of his dusty long legged jeans were frayed and torn,
all that mattered was that he stopped for a moment
and lifted a prayer… his presence in this room… adorned.

February 2, 2017

Living the Question

How many times do I seek answers from within,
hoping to be lifted
and given the courage to move forward again?

Webster defines an answer  “A thing said, written or done in response.”
Every day  life has it’s own way to define
“Answers are something that hangs out there and taunts.”

Lost in  thought and  a sleepless struggle filled night
Tossing and turning words and actions
Resolution can’t be found, a mind wrestled fight.

What is the question? Where did it all start?
When and where did I become stuck?
When did my insides become so torn apart?

Time will tell me what I need to know
Live the questions and let them be
Answers will come as they have had time to grow.

Dear Journal

Dear Journal……..
I come to you each day leaving my heart on space filled lines.
I often wonder what I would do if you rejected me
Where would I go?
Who would listen?
How would I spend my time?

You help me to think things through
You allow me to whine and moan and complain
You allow me to cry and react and feel insane
You allow me to find peace and quiet and a song
You allow me to release and move along
You allow me to think and shrink into dark filled time
You allow me to expand and grow beyond today’s line
You allow me find the right words to say
You help me to feel alive each day.

What would I do, if I no longer had you?
Sincerely,
Ink-filled pen

Windswept