And A Little Child Will Lead Them

I see her in a plain red dress

not quite like little orphan Annie

because her hair is straight brown

but she takes the man’s hand

who seems to be her dad

sitting at a round table in a brown suit

from Father Knows Best

but the feeling is like home

He’s reading the newspaper

like they do in the fifties

but as soon as she grabs hold

he turns, stands and follows

where she wants him to come see

and I think that’s how it goes

when I wanna show God something

and he ooohs and ahhhs

over the tiny flower I found

or pets that puppy next door 

or we laugh together

while he fixes whatever’s

broken just like that 

he comes when I reach

or sometimes when I don’t

and I remember I’m not an orphan




Photo credit: Depositphotos.com #91173348, Standard License

Healing

And the demons in her head
stopped long enough
to watch her dance
then slipped out the door
swallowed by silent light.



Photo: Personal collection

Cut Flower

The roses are
holding their breath
Trembling petals brush
the velvet cheek
Blushing pride
shock and wonder

I am wanted
like a favorite shirt
comforting book
glistening cold drink

I relax into you
like a cosy chair
at the cabin
warm in front of the rusty
smell of cedar on the fire

and the rose exhales
opens its arms



Photo credit: Joyce Rempel

No More Tears

A softening comes over your persona

like the evening sunset in watercolour pastels

The knife blade wit, sheathed

no need to say, Look at me!

I gaze, satisfied, heart so full with all of you

I forget the empty abandoned shell, pre-56

the thin veneer of a smile

I used to offer, hat in hand

The mourning shroud slips off my hair 

as your fingers comb out ancient dreadlocks

sprinkle moon dust and golden starlight 

from the blue moon of your eyes

You feed me nutty laughter

substantial pieces of Oh Henry

I save the steak and potatoes of me 

to sate your appetite on a future date, not yet set 

I call, spill terror, and you speak peace

silence the demons with His word, 

sing me to sleep from afar

with hymns and chuckles 

stuff the black minions 

back into Pandora's box 

and hurl it all into the sea 

of forgetfulness

Now we only cry for joy

weep for love

amnesia gone

we remember Eden

.

A New Day

Squeeze your eyes tight against the crack of light around the window blind and it becomes a cross under your closed lid.

Breathe deep. Stretch.

Pain murmurs down your right side from temple to tail, a remnant from the miracle rescue by guardian angels when, in your dark rush yestermorn, you pitched headlong down four steps into the unforgiving grey concrete garage floor.

Lay there shaking, spill thanks like a broken rosary, tears bead and scatter, gather you up angel wings and set you whole in front of the congregation.

Sing.

Declare truth about chains broken and hips unbroken and falls healed and love restored after pitching headlong over twelve steps in your own dark night. The twisting pain from temple to tail as you break out of denial, shed the security blanket of blame and wear forgiveness like a crown.

And the angels marvel.

Smile.

Squint tight at the light around the crack in your blindness and see it becomes a cross where love pours out.

This is where the healing begins.
The light meets the dark.
Dance on the ashes of your life.
Your life is a temple.
Go tell your tale.
It's a new day.



Picture: personal collection