Abba Father

There is a hole in my heart, that he left,
a sting in my pride when I re-read his letter-
the one that says he would” rather not
have a relationship. after all this time.”

I had no reply.

All the images I had in my head
of some magical reunion
fell to pieces in my mind
like shards of shattered glass
piercing through untouched layers

I began to wonder,
what is wrong with me?

In the midst of tears, I realized,
there is one who loves me,
knows my steps,
every single flaw
and accepts me anyway.
He tosses my past
into an ocean of forgiveness;
blows the dust off
a book of love letters

he left.

….I am penning a poem a day for Jesus to celebrate his birth from Nov 24 through Christmas. This is day 6

Embraced

Darkness was a cloak
about us
until the gold of you
shone grace upon our faces.

We are forgiven,
despite our unworthiness,
given countless mercies
in the midst of our iniquities,

molded, shaped, polished
in your reflection
perfected
in our imperfections;

((embraced)) in the fall.

.
~ I am penning a poem a day for Jesus to celebrate his birth from Nov 24 through Christmas. This is day 5.

The Cost

The flowers you planted
in the back yard, bloomed,

the willow ceased weeping.

I crave the beauty of your presence
in the two o’clock A.M. .silence

wind rushing through my hair;
the words you left,
honeysuckles to my ears.

Oh, let me read you!;
find the meekness
in the whole of your spirit,
the forgiveness
that remains, still,

between each thorn.

Renewal

Today is a grain of sand
tossed by waves,
beaten, shaken down,
emulsified under the sun,

but, tomorrow is a flower,
planted by his hands,
nurtured, coddled,
kissed by the whisper
of promised wind.

Be that flower.
`

~

.I am writing a poem a day from November 24th until December 25, 2017 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. .. This is day 3

Love Letter #59: Vows

You gave me gifts
before I felt grass
between my toes;

heard birdsong
in chorus
with the beating
of a broken heart.

I stumbled
time after time;
each transgression,
a slap in your face,

and when no one
could love me,
you did,
with the passion
no lover could fathom,
the grace, not even a mother
could muster.

Each time I make my way
to the altar,
there you stand

waiting to say “I do.”

~Penning a poem a day from today November 24 through December 25th, 2017 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day 2.

Believe

His light shines through
even when there is no window;
no stained glass reflection

to explain away the truth.

Some still say,
they will believe when they see,

I say, behold!
Look beyond the cross,
behind the lens-
the cloudy silhouette
of the one who took the blows,
carried your transgressions
upon his shoulders,
and lifts you,
still,

hears your cries
when the others walk away
and waits

for you to reciprocate;

feel the weight
of his love.

*Penning a poem a day from November 24 through December 25th, 2017 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day 1. ❤

Love Letter #58: Symmetric

To say your name
in the silence of the evening
still brings me to tears;

your fingers, wipe them away,

trace the shape of my lips,
turn corners to a smile;
your gaze, a simile.

We lie, horizontal
counting constellations,
watching fireflies
swirl the scent of our love.

We don’t need words,
but you speak soft syllables,
anyway;
dance them
in the symmetry
of a poem.

I could fill pages
with the petals of our story,
compose a symphony;

notes resembling the melody
of my harp strings
when you twirl my hair
‘round your pinkie,
play pretty with my heart,

frolick in flowers
beneath our bare feet,
in breeze they sway
and tickle tendencies
to run; to silence time

to leave senses simmering
in the seamless chorus

of us.

Love Letter #57: Crimson

In dreams of black and white,
he was covered in red,
modestly draped in white,

but the crimson ran through

for me, for you,
for us
and our transgressions.

He must be blue now,
looking down
upon the flight of birds;
the separation, devastation

the killing
of us,

but, the wind cries joy
with no regret;
no shame,

because the son
shone grace
upon every bowed head

each iniquity, falling
at the foot of his cross.

Leave(s)

Leave(s)

You never bring me flowers
when green fades to brown,
crumbling under my feet,
remnants of a Summer love,

burnt orange
and sad as September

~

Love Letter #56: to Fireflies

It was one year to the day he left
in the coolness of March.
I waited
for a star to fall like it had that night.
I needed another sign from God
that he was somewhere warm;
somewhere sweeter

than the wildflowers we walked through
in that same field where I sat,
waiting,

then, came something softer
than a constellation
but, as close as a whisper,
with wings.

My head in my hands,
it all came back;
the song, the lyric
of him;

the smile on the lips of his last words,
echoing like lost syllables in damp air,

but then, this flickering thing,
it multiplied, divided-
like stars,
exploding in the Heavens
and there I was
under a skyful of light

wondering how could I
have ever doubted
you.