Asking

What do you do with the gifts I give you
The blue flags and the cardinal view? 
Do you heal, whilst you love
Do you leave legacy?
Do you fly
Do you let Me guide you?

What do you do with the Fall Equinox
The waned moon and the amber days too?
Do you stir, undeterred
Do you walk with purpose?
Do you rise
Do you see My True Hue?

I have a loved one who introduced me to Jesus when I was 19. Where would I be without that fact, I shudder to think. If you know and love and have faith in the God of the Bible, the Creator of the Universe, I’m asking…please pray for the person God put in my path all those years ago.

I often do a prayer-filled writing meditation where I sit down and without a goal, simply watch and listen to what God literally sets in front of me. Today it was all of these things:

•lavender from my garden

•my son’s school notebook and science book

•the blue prayer flags in my window

•a cardinal landing in the tree inches in front of my face

•golden tall grasses around the edge of my yard

And then, God asked me to ask all of us this: What do you *do*with it all?

In Our Fifties

Our chartreuse-colored love

The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite

Nor will we throw it away

We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”

We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma

We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am

We do this
You, there, and me, here

Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching

What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over

What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love

Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us

Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day

Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing

Pack up and move far away

Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road

It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye

Bonding Bad

The days of danger finding me
Smack dab in the middle of my manifesting success

Freshly showered after having done all the inner-work

Looking like chemistry
Though, by definition, cannot be

True to your name, Trauma

Your electric days that bound us
Over

Fruit Nut

Sweet plum
Summer’s crown jewel
Ripened
Smiling, still

Though ghosted
Chipped away at
Hollowed out
Cut in two

Bitten off, but not spit out
For I remain
Saucy
Thus, your favorite fruit

525600 Minutes Too Many

“Be done leaving,” I’ve begged Time

Stop the silence

525600 minutes, almost now

Only just this morning
Done biding for unspoken goodbyes
I threw the clock out the door

Glass heart that it has
It’ll not show it’s square-jawed face
’round my gold again

Curtains

Unravelings rambled undetected amongst the two us

Made their way to a place in our hearts that our brains didn’t know to protest

You, now gone, as a breeze
I, here, in the still
Grasping devotion I do set free

Blameless, we
For the loving words we uttered
For the promises we made

Unaware of translucent thorns wafting betwixt our souls