Dear, Flower — forlorn, with hidden hue
Look at the intricacy of you!
Weeds cause our chaos, but our growth too
Seek now, the Sun, and newer views
Greetings, great Blossom —
here, you’ll grow tall
Bees and buds bring forth God’s love
When rain falls
You’re planted…in this garden, afterall
Always or sometimes
Virtue deliberated
Finds love was insane
As we talk, and as we walk
Creating a new world
We are here co-equals
Not confused — our hands, uncurled
Now, we stay and care and hear
We each add such something
Breathe an interrupting breath?
— We’d disrupt what we bring!
This time, it’s a table, strong
With two chairs, stronger still
Centered in the sun-filled place
Our life, atop the hill
Should you run headlong?
Yes! Curating June flowers
Plus July fireworks
God, give us the time machine
To show us what we hope to see
The way the wool would flow and float around
Our happy ankles
When we walked free and were let be
In the Garden, there
Oh, wear and tear and fibre’s snare
Since we’ve not tak’n good, good care
To guard against the urban’s grey
The droughted field’s thirst at mid-day
Lord
Please take this pain away
You’ve said they know not what they’ve done
And we forgive them, too
Each one
With prayer and hope
And You
We
Are
Made
Anew and clean
God, You are our Time Machine
See the azure ‘nigh?
Life has shown me it’s called Hope
It’s what guides me home
Photo Credit: Lisa Mae, FieryPhtotgraphy.com;
Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Act we, as if
Our piece of pie space
Our map-dot place
Is all there is
Defend it furiously
Argue to exhaustion
With a wrongful righteousness
Then wither with its fruit
But what when
We turn and take notice
God’s graced us with abundance
Its seeds to sow?
What problem?
Lord knows
We were fed and safe and tucked in at night, with somewhere to go in the morning
The air was magic
Man, was the air magic
For us, at least — which was the problem
The laughter spilled
Our future felt filled
It was all more than we could ask for
And we didn’t have to ask — which was the problem
We didn’t ask whether they could spell magic
Whether laughter flowed from their windows
Were their futures filled?
Were their babies and boys and men fed and safe and tucked in at night, with somewhere to go in the morning?
Lord knows
And that’s our problem
Neither a nurturer
Nor a ‘til-the-end friend
Wasn’t a warrior
Just a walk-away-er
Giant, silent chaos-creator
Truth-debater
Left the City for the farm
Shallow, self-indulgent charm
The countdown’s begun
He’s long gone…and was always gonna run
Would sunrise rush
To us — help the hero within
Here, we, with sight
Need
Still a glimmer, to see
This horizon, this friend
Photo Credit: Lisa Mae; FieryPhotography.com
LisaRosier.com 