HOME

The gift of brown clay
sun-baked; we share creation,
a body - a home.

BROKEN BODIES

Broken bodies moan in darkening streets,
the spectre of death surrounds me.
Shaken to my core, my voice is stilled
for words cannot express the heart
better than silence. A haunting wind pierces
my vain heart, clouds gather, while dirt
blinds my eyes, collects on my tongue,
stopping me cold; I listen. Choking
on tears that well up from my toes
I revel in the glory that lets me feel, really
feel I belong to this world today.
Young angels flock to my side.
I join them on their journey home.

WINTER VISION

A gray winter sky releases gentle snowflakes,
silence arriving on the edge of Sunday morning.
Sitting in my old red chair, I consider the fire
burning without, burning within.

The brush of an angel’s wings against my face
recalls the holy touch of one no longer near.
Closing my eyes, I deeply drink the vision
living well, dying whole.

Purple sunset celebrates the freely given day,
I stutter step as I near the marble sentinel,
unsure if a mere kiss will be enough to pay my fare
home , forever home.

(poem inspired by photograph taken by
and used with kind permission of Christine Valters Paintner.

Join her Poetry Party every other Monday at www.abbeyofthearts.com.)

(photograph taken by James Melnychuk)

HOME TONIGHT

You asked if I’d be home tonight,
but I’m not sure how to answer
for the dreary chill of morning
and dank dew seeped into my head,
making a stew thicker than an early winter fog.
Although the noonday sun has cleared
the skies, my memory escapes me.
Hijacked by some thought pirate
for a ransom I can’t afford.
I’m not sure if I really even care.
Will I be home tonight?
Will I be?

HOME

My body formed of clay from earth,
my bones from random rocks.
I yearn to feel the blush of sun,
the soaking rain, upon my face
and deep within my desert soul.
The love inscribed upon my heart
lies too within imperfect bones.
Hidden to protect weak flesh
from daggers of a mortal love.
I look to nature for eternal solace
for there I’ll find my rest,

my home.

(poem prompted by photograph taken by

and used with kind permission of

Christine Valters Paintner

@ www.abbeyofthearts.com.

Join Christine's Poetry Party every other Monday!)

HOME

When I’m at my desert home,
I can see the tree where God lives.
Rust and copper stain the hills,
watercolored solid stone.

God’s creation pierces my heart,
wordless beauty engenders awe,
causing me to fall on solid ground
to listen closely to earth’s heartbeat.

A measured pace breathes between
my inner and outer God.
Moved to sing the eternal song
imprinted in my soul,
I simply move my feet and dance.

REACHING OUT

As that long tunnel appears
and the blinding flash of light
draws me home, I cross
into a world devoid of color.
I search in vain
for a drop of blood
to soothe my anxious heart.
But soon, gentle sepia
lulls me to sleep.
When later, I awaken
and open my eyes
gentle faces greet me,
open arms envelope me
and together we continue
our timeless dance.

(poem inspired by photograph provided by and used with permission of

Christine Valters Paintner - www.abbeyofthearts.com)

HIDDEN THINGS

“I will show you hidden things,
hidden things you have not known.” - Isaiah 48:6

At dawn a portal opens
revealing hidden things
to ancient eyes that wisely
choose to closely watch.

Nature dances in close step
and sings with perfect pitch
chords created before time
in simple harmony.

Wild geese on a northern wing
follow their true compass,
a map inscribed within their hearts
by One who calls them blessed.

Hidden things, freely given
revealed in simple ways
guide us on our pilgrim path
delivering us home.

(poem inspired by photograph taken by and used with permission of Christine Valters Paintner of www.abbeyofthearts.com -
Come join the Poetry Party every other Monday!)