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Beatitudes II: Grace

Determined to move mountains,
a miniscule thought was fed;
a manuscript created
from a story in your head.

A beautiful wildflower,
once called a simple weed,
sprouted up from only
a tiny mustard seed.

Love; the powerful weapon
that tears down the highest wall
cracks open the hardest hearts
lends softness to the fall.

flowers from weeds, they blossom
born from amazing grace
in a potter’s hands, molded, shaped,
and displayed in a shiny new vase.

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On a Friday

You come to me
in the scent of wildflowers,
dancing beneath my feet,
in hues of cerulean
and magenta,

tickling senses,
permeating breezes;

these pages turning, faster
than fingers can find the words,
reverberating,

like strings of a lyre.

I listen to the sound of wings;
leaves of tree branches
sway and bend, bend and sway

to music I haven’t heard yet.

I chase your heart
down a petaled path;

light calling me home.

~

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Love Letter #67: Taking Note

He doesn’t see the imperfections
the brokenness that weeps
at 3:00 AM,

disrupting his sleep.

He kisses away drops of sorrow;
carries my burdens on his back,

gazes into these pools
of blue-green confusion,
and smiles

taking note of every blink,
every movement
that tugs him closer
to my heart.

~
~
Day 22 of NaPoMo 2018… a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month…. Due to the miracles my family has received this year, I dedicate my poem each day to the one who is the reason for them. I made a promise I intend to keep ❤

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Lost and Found

I found you beside the honeysuckle bush,
shining upon my childhood summers,

felt you in the wake of nightmares,
gentling my heartbeat, encompassed
by the warmth of you,
of your presence;

shadow in the mirror,
recipient of my prayers,
you trace my footsteps,

even now,

when the walk is long
and the road, unpaved.

~
Day 14 of NaPoMo 2018… a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month…. Due to the miracles my family has received this year, I dedicate my poem each day to the one who is the reason for them

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For A Season

I.
Bolts of white December
and a shaking comes
in the midst of my sleep;
senses tumble
like uncertain weeds sway;

change is inevitable.

II.
Colors, they fall upon me-
purple covers pain;
weeping vulnerability
and a fragile pink blessing
wrapped in a blue blanket;
of soft beats and faith.

III.
April blows in
like dandelions do.
and you sit back, watching
our season unfold,
minds bloom open
close, and open again
like umbrellas when it rains.

~
For NaPoMo Day 1

Due to the miracles my family and I have seen so far in 2018, this year, I will dedicate my “poem a day in April”to the one who is responsible…

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Made Up

I feel insincerity
in each blink of your lashes
as muscles cringe;
your arms lightly draped
around my neck.

Love must have fallen
somewhere along the way;
exited abruptly

like the red of your smile.

~

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Return To Sender part 2 (Older With Thicker Skin)

I can’t sleep with such an uneasiness in the room.

I see a film playing my life; slide after slide
without you,

but I was too young to know, then;
too innocent to realize rejection,
to feel inadequacy tap me on the shoulder
like it does now, everytime I see your face
staring back at me

questioning why I never met your expectations
even though you never attempted to know me
or feel the warmth of my heart,

the loyalty of someone
who would have always had your back.

~