The thin blue rope of love

What do you see
when staring at us
standing all together?
Do you note our differences --
how some are dark
and others light;
some clean, and others dirty;
some straight,
and others curved
as if to accommodate
a different way of being?
Or can you see how much alike
we are; how strong,
when bound together
by the thin blue rope of love?

The silence of the daffodils

In the silence of the daffodils,
their golden heads bowed down
with the weight of a late spring snow
I hear the ache in your voice;
a mother's sadness
a child's cry in the night
the soldier's loneliness
as he watches in the darkness
dreading every shadow --
when will this numbing coldness
dissipate; when will the soul
awake and bloom
without this palpable constriction?

Til dawn returns again

These transitions,
that can prove so challenging,
are often also times so bathed
in light that we forget,
enchanted by the show,
that when it fades
we're moving into night.
Blessed as we are
by the glory at the end of the day,
help us to have the patience
and the courage
to carry the memory of light
through darkness
until dawn returns again.

A wound in the foundation

This crack
in the foundation of the earth,
in the foundation of our being;
this arbitrary separation --
can it be healed?
Or does it go too deep?
Was there ever a time
when it did not exist?
Can we be whole again,
or are we forever doomed
to poke at this,
to widen the rift
with the picks and shovels
of our angry thoughts and opinions?
Help us to reach across the gap
and feel the solid rock
from which we each are made.

Longing and belonging

We are as You created us:
fragile, strong,
imperfect and whole,
outwardly open
yet closed protectively
around our inner core,
surrounded by all we need to survive
and yet still longing
for that precious gift
that only You can give.
Wrapped in this tangled circle
of longing and belonging
I lift my face to the sun,
seeking to feel
your warm embrace
in the tender heart
of being.

Stop and look and wonder

Who knew
a lowly hole in the floor
could glow
with such a precious light;
gold,
silver,
copper --
Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed
like one of these.
Some days
the texture of our lives
is so surprising
we can only stop
and look
and wonder at the miracles.

The voice of wonder

High on the ridge,
tucked in the trees,
a light persistent chirp
of wonder calls;
an invitation to appreciate
the scent of evergreens,
the chill on my cheeks
and the warmth of sun on my back
the chuckling of the water
in the creek,
the crunch of snow underfoot.
"Take time to breathe," it sings,
"and celebrate creation."