6️⃣ – 1️⃣1️⃣ -2️⃣5️⃣ A month away to the anniversary of that fatal night!
I had forgotten how it sounded, the lullabies of a mother’s song I am still searching for the keys to my broken heart 💔
My Mama always use to say 7️⃣7️⃣1️⃣1️⃣ was a lucky number Why she called it lucky I wasn’t sure cause all those nights she went into those buildings with flashing lights she never did win but she always kept going back Her favorite game was called ‘Craps’ A roll of dice called ’21’ (excuse the slang) But it smelled like crap! I wondered why a game would be called that Its a spinoff of a French game called ‘Toad’ This makes perfect sense, since Mama settled us in smelly shacks where snakes, spiders and toads hung out
Well, you never know what life is going to throw at yah! Like Forrest Gump said “My Mama called life, like a box of chocolates, you never know what flavor your gonna get till you bite into it.”
But the roll of dice was not sweet that night on 7️⃣ -7️⃣ – 1️⃣1️⃣ The night the music died!
I came across a tree that was lifeless and had no purpose that I could see And I thought and wondered why had not someone taken pity and cut it down before it died?
And then one day as I walk by a fluttere of wings by me fly And to my surprise upon a limb some caring one had hung a feeder of seed and bread hidden from the sun Yellow birds Black birds Red and white ones as well all are fellows dining as one
And to me new life the tree seems to receive And I am given hope – When I feel helpless as a tree left half dead – Broken limb by limb – Until it seems from me all life has fled
Like a tree cut down I can sprout again! Am I not as a beggar telling other beggars where to find the bread
Or will, I like a careless neighbor by a tree that seems dead to me Walk right on by?
“For there is hope for a tree when it is cut down that it will sprout again” Book of Job
I’ve stored many garments in the closet of time Ones of worry and concern that did not fit me well I have tried to mend them but my thread is too fine and my needle too dull
My doubts interfere and I fear for my body a lack of clothes 👚 When in the distance a field of lilies beckon me “We never toil, nor spin our cloth Yet in fine linen and gold we are finely dressed” “Do not be afraid, for a robe of faith will be given that fits you well” 😋
Every morning I visit the meadow where the pleasant summer flowers grow Daisies with their 🌼 sunshine faces🌞 Poppies with paper petals A meadow full of papr dolls dancing in the middle 👩🏼🦳
Just last fall they had fallen asleep and I began to weep But with their promise “We have saved a pocket full of seed” With faith I believed And their promise came true!
Once again – A meadow full of paper dolls – Dance in the breeze 👱🏼♀️
Daddy, Where did I get that name? Only daddies are there when you need love, a hug when you have fallen, bruised and harmed Where did you go when I
needed you most? I have painted a picture in my mind, searching in everyone to replace you, but none I have found At your grave many letters I have read, but only silence is heard
Daddy You Are Dead! But now I must confess Litttle did I know there was one that Carried me when I slipped and fell, losing my way, when the battle was too strong for me to fight Carrying me over troubled waters when you were unable He is the one I turn to when I cry ‘
“He is my potter and I am his clay” * So daddy I must bury your few lingering remains along with my pain And say goodbye, to do your best I know you tried
Now I have found a new Daddy My surrogate Father is his Name!
He plants cool shade and tender rain, And seed and bud of days to be, And years that fade and flush again, He plants the glory of the plain, He plants the forest’s heritage, The harvest of a coming age, The joy that unborn eyes shall see, These things he plants who plants a tree.
Excerpt from the ‘Heart of the Tree’ by Henry Cuyler Bunner
Donna's Poetry Blog 