God’s Face

Desolate cliffs stand at the place

Where first I gazed upon God’s face

No shrubs or grass to brighten here

No rabbits, birds or white-tipped deer

Sadness reigned throughout my being

Blocked the sunshine from me seeing

Clouds above, below and within

Blackness covered every inch of skin

Upon the edge I placed my feet

Willingly admitted defeat

Dreamt of freedom’s staccato beat

Thought of God whom I soon would meet

When birds did fly into the scene

I wondered what it all might mean

Did He expect me to believe

Relief would help me not to grieve?

As icing on my private cake

A rainbow appeared that did remake

Lifeless soil into softened down

As comfort for my furrowed frown

With crash of waves upon the shore

I realized that I wanted more

Than living life like troubled boar

Whose blackened heart on shoulders wore

The sun burst forth upon a wave

Strode to my heart; pierced with a stave

Releasing sadness, doubt and fear

Then my savior, God, did appear

Now rabbits, birds and white-tipped deer

Frequently to this place appear

Marvelous cliffs to mark the place

Where first I gazed upon God’s face.

Mother

Gray hair that once was brown

Straight that used to curl

Not combing or brushing

Not washing or rinsing

Just tangling on her head.

 

Body so frail that once ran

Legs that can’t even stand

Not moving or twitching

Not lifting or stretching

Just resting in the bed.

 

Eyes that once so clearly saw

Every mistake, every flaw

Not blinking or closing

Not focusing or watching

Just staring straight ahead.

 

Mind that once measured

Each phrase, each meaning

Not thinking or dreaming

Not pitting or planning

Just forgetting all said.

 

Voice that once spoke

Of family and friends

Not whispering or shouting

Not bragging or lying

Just lost in a void.

 

Gone now.

Laid at rest.

Still.

Silent.

Peace at last.

   A Sensitive Soul

I was born with a sensitive soul:

hurt covers me like icy water,

leaving me shaken and weak,

unable to walk, to function

as a human being.

 

I weep when others sniffle,

sob when some merely dab their eyes.

inside fires rage and water boils

with an intensity measured

by the Richter scale.

 

Pain strikes like an axe

falling hard on my furrowed brow,

bringing me to my knees

begging for the waves to pass

and peace to come.

 

While some quietly rage, I boil over,

spreading my doom and gloom

everywhere my eyes travel,

making my presence felt.

Discomforting others.

 

Harboring my hurts

like a mother sheltering her young

I cradle them, caress them,

nurture them until splinters grow into

full-blown trees.

 

Letting go is not easy.

I preach forgiveness, but find

clinging vines cover my heart, blocking

my arteries, cutting off oxygen,

inhibiting rationality.

 

The good news is that time heals.

Positive memories release pain

allowing stories to cry away the hurts.

New days begin with hope

for those like me, born with

a sensitive soul.