Grace

wild as can be

entwined around and

through the crooked

bitterness twisting sadness

covering filling and free

releasing tight anxieties

loosening belts and buckles

letting out and letting go

breath and falling

but never failing only

finding spaces

touching faces

wanton and wild

grace through me

When he wrote my life… he thought of you

And when he crafted your story

I was on his mind

Author and finisher

Thought of us both

When he wrote his own

Sad tale

Exuding blood and tears

Knowing the happy ending

Would never be

Without the tragedy

In between.

God when it’s all I see

Let me be held

In hands of hope

and let me trust

in grace.

Stock photo

Is this
your dying?
Am I seeing
it now...
A slow retreat
from life.
Has part of you
already died
before I was ready...
Were you ready?
To take your leave
of me
Yet still be here
in body?
Can I be here
And present
to you...
To the part of you
that has not yet
Gone?
Be here to love
the part that lives
While saying the long
and slow
goodbye.

"Savoring Time" stock photo

Studying grief and emotional reactions to dementia diagnoses...

and I have my own emotional reaction. Typical gracie.

Beauty easily graces you

and every path that intersects your journey

finds the petals of your joy remain

to soften the steps

of all who may follow

photo by jurvetson

justice,
oh justice.
let the abused
and the maligned
the discriminated
and the alienated
those without a voice
have allies and friends.
let justice be on our lips
compassion in our hearts
let their souls
be our burden
and their tears
our sorrow

excuse me please
I am a little confused
struggling to understand
normality refused.
thoughts can be wild
emotions are strong
to run and to hide
do I belong?
I would like to believe
that I think as I know
I would like to live
without the dark doubt's shadow.

I am scared of my honesty
for it caught me by surprise
I am worried by my vulnerability
how I will look in your eyes.
for the words I found myself saying
were truer than I knew
they now challenge who I am
what I say and what I do.
how can I feign belonging
pretending that I wear
the cloth and the colour
and that certain holy air
I am scared of my honesty
there are much more questions now
will I have to speak, to give account
I really don't know how.

The tongue slipped

And I tripped

And fell into flippancy

Oh so regretfully

Speaking before

I had thought.

In an instant

Found wishing

I was somewhere else

Fishing, instead of

Ashamed and

Distraught.

have I said too much?
are you exhausted?
looking for retreat?
my murky imagery
draining life from you all?

this journey
this tiresome
wearisome
irksome
journey
the colours have faded
even the contrast
has become greyed.

the years have passed
yet the high road
that flowed beneath my view
still has a hold
and calls my name.

where is the blue of the sea
the rainbows
the laughter
the order
the chaos
where is that funny man
running and running?
yes, we caught him,
held him,
trained him
but,
where has he gone?

It is raining on the inside
and the sun outside
is making me feel guilty.

there are memories
gentle wakeful dreams
they fill my senses
with their peace.

I look behind me
quiet, water-stilled memories
I sigh and remember.

there was healing
on these island shores.
healing that was tied to her rocks
and her sands
and her morning-light.

My mind drifts forward,
past today with it's fears
and anxieties
and I search for another place,
another pleasant place
of lapping and lulling.

I pray,
I hope
sometimes
I even
wish

there is a home for me
perhaps
my heart is there now.