Poem: The Moon-Cloud

September 24, 2010

The moon,

Like a rice wafer in the sky,

So light it seems almost like a cloud

To be blown away by a sigh.

Round, defined, translucent,

Like a dream just after waking –

Fading into the pale blue sky of morning –

Soon to be forgotten

With the dawning of the day.

Sarah ><>

Poem: The Scalding

June 22nd, 2010

The drip-drip of water into the pot.
Setting it on the stove,
I turn the dial slowly to “Hot” and watch
And wait.
The result is already known:
Heat + water = boiling and steam.
As the bubbles form at the bottom,
I stick my hand over the pot to feel
The heat rising.  And rising.
And rising.
Not ready yet though.
Finally, cascading to the surface – it’s time.
I plunge my hand in,
Feeling the water scald my skin,
My muscles and nerves screaming out.
But I cannot pull back.
The pot must be emptied.
Inside, I’m shouting, “No, no, NO!”
But I raise the pot over my head
And pour the rest out.
As the boiling water joins my tears,
My cheeks red from shame, pain, and fears,
I set the pot in the sink.
The drip-drip of water into the pot.
I’ll be healed when it’s full, to do it again.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Green

March 26, 2010

I catch glimpses of green from beneath

the rough casings of brown.

Green, showing its affinity

for the bright blue of the sky above

and the already verdant ground below

blanketed by warm and delicious yellow light.

The snow from the early morning

has already melted away

and gone to feed the aching thirst

of those green, green, green,

velvet to the touch, newborns

peeking out and teasing my eyes and heart

with a hope of what’s coming.

Life from death –

is the great mystery of my mind today –

how regardless of circumstance

there is a bubbling inside of me

urging itself to uncover from within,

shedding its winter-case

and entreating all to join in the wonder.

Death no more to hold them in its grasp –

an echo of a greater Truth

and, aah!

My heart is at peace and energy.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Emerging

October 29th, 2009

On the tip of my brain
Sits a poem only half-formed.

It has been on the verge of being written
But lacks a common thread or substance.
Inspiration…

The change of the seasons are a muse
As is Prokofiev, green tea, and daffodils.
When peering out into nature
To watch God’s amazing workmanship
Words drip into the sky
And peek out from behind the trees.

These fleeting moments of clarity
Are so difficult to grasp,
But their memory leaves a taste in my mind
And can’t help but make me thirst for the Something Greater.

Like the dark shadows shining down from the clouds
Between the bright rays of the sun.
Or the resonance of a string on my violin
With the tamborine atop the piano.

The sound rushes through the air and finds a kindred voice
And the two shake with joy at their meeting,
Lifting my heart with them
And laughter bursting forth.

Observing the absurd and giggling
Deeply until I must gasp for air.

God, the beautiful painter,
Who made the colors to complement each other.
He put red flowers on stalks of green;
Purple and yellow wildflowers
Scatter themselves and dance along the highway,

Crowned with caps of white.
Trees containing one hundred shades of orange, gold,
And vibrant, burning embers of scarlet
Against a vastness of blue
And a trunk of black.

Each leaf, then, holds a secret;
Each flower petal an answer,

And my eyes flit over them oft unaware
Of such a great mystery.
Oh, grant me the liberty to write such a verse
That would do justice to these trappings
Beating out of my heart.

A calling, a whisper,
A rampant longing for the glorious.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Start of Autumn

September 22nd, 2008

Sometimes change comes suddenly and sometimes it

Takes its time to come through.

As leaves turn from their green hew to

Reds, yellows, and browns,

Trees resound the coming change of the year.

Oft filled with as many sweet aromas as Spring,

Fall has a subtle beauty to it.

And we praise the Maker and Artist, Who

Understands our need of change, even

Though we may not wish it at times.

Unworthy are we of the gift He gives us,

Mystery, nature, and a season of respite.

Now we welcome Him with open arms.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Window of a Morning

August 18th, 2008

When in the morning
The sun’s first rays of daffodil tears
Break through the glass
And sweep across my face,
My mind is flooded with thoughts –
Worries and plans, joys and sadness
All come in with the morning light.
As a cloud passes under the sun,
Its shadow is God’s gentle reminder
To stop and remember Him.
My eyes close again
But not to return to slumber.
Instead, it throws me at His feet,
The feet of the One Who holds all.
He shows me the coming day
Through His crystal clear pane.
The sight is foggy, muddled and
I’m unsure of His purpose.
As I peer longer, an image takes form
And I’m aware of the reflection in the glass,
With my Father’s strong arms around me.
I sigh and gaze at the peaceful scene,
But then it changes.
Slowly my reflection disappears
And He is all that remains.
Tears fall from my eyes as the knowledge
Of Who He is and who I’m not
Fills my mind.
My day is now in order
And I open my eyes to
Rejoice in His beautiful sunlight.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Light in The Father

August 17th, 2008

How beautiful it is when
A child of God goes to meet Him.
When the light has burned brightly,
Drawing many to the Source –
The Father.
When the child’s flame is immersed
In the burning brilliance of,
The Father.
Though other nearby flames
Mourn the loss of their kindred
The hope of future burning,
Of a flame that will never fan out,
It is our comfort and delight.

Sarah ><>