Gold

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I struggle to know
If, as a girl,
I always did just the right things

I shutter to think
When I grew up tall
That none of it mattered at all

I listen to learn
If time will whisper
I needn’t have any regrets

I wait and wonder
If the caring I shared
Imprinted my name on gold stone

Kind, Wild, Friend

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“August 25th,” she said and thought breathlessly, searching for wisdom and a pen. “I have called you friends.” Joy…surrender…eyes on Him. Yes, all wise mortar for new Life. 

Onto love. It doesn’t matter the date, love “Is.” Daily. Lasts only a moment, but exists in each moment. Thanks, god. Her method today: seek it upside down and backward. Flip with eyes closed through its intentionally silky pages and choose the one just after the most proud. Turn it up-side-up and look to your right. There he is. Talking about wild again. Blurred, inked wild. Yes, this is only love. 

Truth?  She knows so. Here, see youth, invasion, then the dark surrender – but not invasion of the soul, not surrender of the spirit. She takes from today its lesson and gives back the gift of her understanding. Yes, truth demands kindness and compassion nevertheless. 

He placed a piece of His divine in us all, she’s relieved to learn. “I have called you friends….”

The Road Before Us

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I think there’s pale, storm blue.

And a handprint or two. In black, but gentle, not graffiti-like.

I hear green breathing in and giving back.

Soft fibers that fell from all over. Reminders of the eyes and hands behind them.

Amber inviting throughout the space.

Smiles. Wisdom-teaching smiles, that comfort and Save. 

Hard-covered poetry within arms reach.

Wooden bowls, filled for friends, beside the window that’s right where it’s needed. 

 

Koala Tricks

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One ought not say “no, never”
But never applies to this
Never show up 
With just a heart and a cup 
To the Outback
Uninvited

Should the King of Kangaroos
In royal penmanship scribe
On crazed parchment
Rambling that you be present 
Test the bid for
Eucalyptus 

Champions I Know

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This is typical.  Last night, at bedtime, in bed, my boy draws for me his version of a flower.  In yellow highlighter.  That’s the typical part -the yellow highlighter.  It’s how he speaks best to me.  He knows I’ll take the effort to look hard and see him there, hidden in yellow against a white background.

He slept with that marker last night and woke up with it this morning, determinedly placing it behind his ear for safekeeping.  At breakfast he sat, yellow highlighter marker tucked behind his ear.  In the car on the way to school, how many times did it fall from behind his ear and, without wavering, he placed it back again?  He wore it into school and intends to keep it there with him all day.  I didn’t need to ask him why, I just hope his teacher will get it too.  What secret flowers will he give to the world today if permitted?

My littlest sister won the ‘You Are So Damn Correct Award’ just two days ago when she said to cheer me up “at least you have your child.”  Yes.  It was an out-of-the-blue remark and I fought to understand the relevance in the moment.  But I get it now.  With the image of my boy getting out of the car with a yellow highlighter marker tucked behind his ear, fully prepared to give the world secret flowers, I get it now.

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Share some small secret

Use yellow euphemisms

I’ve insistent eyes

Not Next Door

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I’d counsel, be careful
The company you keep
That girl she slays demons at night in her sleep

She’s a penchant for grey
A dangerous name
A seemingly endless desire for rain

She entertains delusion
And at dinner debates 
Whether Biblical prophets had talents as great as the You here before me

Use caution, I say
If you seek out that girl as the light to your day