the moon

“The moon is friend for the lonesome to talk to.”
 - Carl Sandburg

The moon, it hung enshrouded

within a veil of lace.

It set the night to glory

and shone in very grace.

The swollen orb of gentleness

quietly lit the sky

as the world reclused into its dark

and let beauty pass them by.

There was no such obnoxity

or pride within its glow,

yet a confidence was exuded clear

as it hung so bright and low.

The path it carefully followed

was one divinely shown.

And humbly, moving through the hours

it soon let the day be known.

the gift of peace

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. 

I do not give to you as the world gives. 

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

John 14:27

 

 

A war is being fought right now
in the East, or around the table.
The sullen faces speak of grief
and we’re just coping if we’re able.
 
The bitter taste of discontent
and grief – it stains our voices,
as we mumble prayers or heartfelt pleas
and count our numbered choices.
---
The sky lit up some years ago
and angels spoke of glory.
Shepherds heard the scene of praise:
soon the world had heard the story.
 
A child, newborn, had been sent to earth
to bring peace to a world of hurting.
His words and deeds - such truth and grace
led to a sacrifice: converting!
 
“Peace,” He said, “I leave you,
and not peace like which you know.”
His peace was whole – with no room for fear
to undermine or overthrow.
---
His peace won’t stop our battles
but will shine a light so clear
that not one shadow will hide an evil
wherever that peace is near.
 
His peace leaves not a troubled heart,
but sheltered by God's shalom,
by His peace – His Spirit’s own peace
He guides us hurting, home.
 
Right here and now, amidst our wars
the hardship may outlive us
but short our lives, and brief our pain
we savour that peace He gives us.

what if and beyond

“For I have always been a seeker, a dreamer, and a ponderer on seeking and dreaming...”

- HP Lovecraft

My sun of hope arises

at most every chance it gets,

peering past the darkness

of all previous regrets.

Its rays extinguish reason

and attempt to banish doubt;

Any kind of misadventure

it carelessly cancels out.

The hues of rampant stupidity

and foolishness light the sky

as I fasten on my fairy wings

and actually believe that I can fly.

On a precipice, silhouetted,

I leap and wave my wand

to fall to the sweet insignificance

of “what if” and beyond.

the piano song

 The pianokeys are black and white
but they sound like a million colors in your mind

- Maria Cristina Mena

Upon ivory keys his fingers stood

and the ebony reflected.

Not a sound escaped the untouched strings

which for years had been neglected.

Dust settled slow, and lights turned dim

and dim and dim and dimmer.

The sleek suspense sliced the air thin

and thin and thin and thinner.

Just when she thought all breath was gone

the air came rushing round her

with a melody sweet, though morose and low.

She allowed it to gently surround her.

Grey clouds gave way to thunder

that begged her ears to dance,

as the tune tore chords asunder

every time it had the chance.

Then slowly, sweet, it healed that soul

which since long ago lay broken

each movement made, each simple note

spoke volumes once left unspoken.

So adamant and so convinced

of such gentle pulchritude,

those keys combined till tenderness

met the sound of grace renewed.

And somewhere near, though yet unseen

her heart was being stirred

by those daring dreams of bold elegance

in the piano’s song she heard.

the stars

Lift up your eyes on high,
 and see who has created these things,
 who brings out their host by number;
 He calls them all by name,
 by the greatness of His might
 and the strength of His power;
 not one is missing.

~Isaiah 40:26

Let me show you the stars tonight

that are lighting up the sky.

I don’t know their names or places

but lets watch them shoot and fly.

Lets absorb the stillness of the night

and take in all the beauty

as we listen to the wind’s sweet song

and watch the moon fulfill her duty.

Let me show you the stars tonight –

watch, see how they shine,

some have asked the reason why

but the answer isn’t mine.

All I know is their beauty

and that their intricate design

was formed by my Creator

who’s made this sky so fine.

Let me show you the stars tonight

take some time to stand in awe

and tomorrow, remember the prettiness

of the constellations that we saw.

a precipice

“Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive--it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there?”

–      Anne of Green Gables

{for my pretty-much-sister}

As on the precipice of adventure,

as on a mountain with a view –

about to leap into it all

yes, that’s me and you!

There is something just remarkable

about life as it is now

with all its questions and uncertainties:

the when’s, the why’s, the how?

The wonderfulness, the beauty

of each moment in every day

is grounded in sweet Providence,

in how God directs the way.

While we revel in the happiness

and hold on through hurt or sorrow

it is God who has a detailed plan

for each today and each tomorrow.

So that feeling of lost, of hanging on

to breaking cords of fear,

is crushed and conquered every time

by a contentment to hold dear.

And while the tempest that seems to be our minds

threatens that hope of peace

we know that life is not an arriving

but a pursuit that doesn’t cease.

So embrace the gifts of love He sends

and the adventure that comes our way,

greeting the day with joy in Him

and watch our lives make way.  

Hope is the thing with feathers

{Some have wondered about my fascination with birds

And all things free and flying –

This poem by Emily Dickinson pretty much explains it.}

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; 


And sore must be the storm 


That could abash the little bird 


That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land, 


And on the strangest sea; 


Yet, never, in extremity, 


It asked a crumb of me.

how can I keep from singing?

how can I keep from singing?

Enya

You

"Keep your face towards the sunshine 

& shadows will fall behind you"

-Walt Whitman

{for my 'Pakistani' friend}

 For no apparent reason,

her face became a smile

which blossomed and overflowed

into laughter after a while.

She was walking in no direction

that was precise or even known,

yet she knew where she was going

and made that path her own.

There was a whimsical sense about her –

something that couldn’t be caught,

like laughter or the sun’s rays

and all the things that can’t be taught.

The strength that seemed to guard her

had grown from scars of time,

of lessons learnt, and times she’d fell

and from all of life combined.

She faced the shining sunlight

and let the shadows fall behind her

and the joy that was her very life

is what she let define her.

And the beauty of the chaos

that was her – each everyday –

shone brightly in her eyes

and begged a friend to stay.

Yes, she knew that what ever happened

 - what ever lay ahead

would be guided by her Creator

and so she let herself be led

towards peace and true forgiveness,

and a meaning for that road,

towards grace and love and kindness

and all the joy that overflowed.

awakened

“You have many choices.

You can choose forgiveness over revenge, joy over despair.

You can choose action over apathy.”

-Stephanie Marston

“Oh,” she gasped.

She drew a breath

of that crisp and salty air.

In front of her lay

The plunge she had planned

 yet her mind was fixed in a stare.

Her eyes stopped to marvel at the waves that crashed down

dispersing

all sense of calm.

Her heart caught a glimpse

of the suns reaching rays

and she slowly stretched out her arm.

Her mind had been made

but now all resolve,

 like the cliffs below that had crumbled

Fell down in a heap

leaving edges steep.

She was left shaken, in awe and humbled.

She lifted her eyes

to the heavens - greyed

from the storm that seemed to be waiting

and prayed to God

(who she hoped still cared),

her mind and her heart deeply aching.

She took a step back

and again. And again

and something seemed to be lifted –

a burden of guilt,

of hardship and hurt

was gradually being shifted.

The clouds gave way

to a torrent so sweet, that

though vicious, wrapped her in embrace.

Soaked to the soul

by the awe of it all

she begged and appealed to grace.

Finding the path

that had taken her here

she retraced the steps she had taken

And as the clouds dispersed

and the curtains drew back,

she found she had awakened.

the flowers

“Earth laughs in flowers.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

A few disjointed stems combined

            tied together with twine.

Shades of green – such charm unseen

yet beauty: soft and slight and fine.

Each petal, soft. Collected thus.

A collation of stains and hues

that spoke silently of laughter,

in the pinks and reds and blues.

Upon the setting of the sun

each closed upon itself

refusing to see the darkness

from their spot upon the shelf.

As if fighting war against the grim,

the dispirited and dejected,

each day another member fell

-       a fate that seemed accepted.

But still the slight existence

of the flowers – while they were - 

reminded me of joy in life

and that such would always occur.