Familiar with the desert and its harsh existence burning sand and wind-worn hills scavengers consuming the very existence giving little hope of a fertile land –
When an unexpected hand reached down, a clearer picture was seen with running streams and fruitful plains! A rich banquet had been prepared with enough to spare!
Sitting on a bench reflecting on her life, there is a longing in her heart why had not her formative years been spared?
But the promise rang true “The years the locust have eaten have not been wasted they will be restored” ** The bumps and ridges of dry desert sand truly had become bridges to a better land!
A Metaphoric Reflection
Her humble house stood in array The kitchen table with empty chairs is saddened, in the cupboards are antagonists chewing
Lowly locusts with their flatulent bellies and bulging eyes inch their way through grubby cabinets . . . a cry is heard as smoke comes through the door It is sad, this house is now ashes but it has to be
The scavengers of earth must bow in solemnity to the sacred word
The cabinets are no longer stirring gnawing has ceased as the locusts retreat
This girl of dust is no longer a wanderlust Her house has become a home glowing within, she would like to invite all to come and eat, there is plenty of room at the table A table draped in white linen, bread and drink fully given, candlelight reflecting the faces of those no longer hidden!
These are selected verses from my book “The Wanderlust”
IN life’s deepest sorrow when it seems the pain is too much to bear, the scrapes and bruises and festering wounds, leave a vessel marred until there is no place to go, but back to the Potter’s wheel from which we were made!
Of colored earth, a vessel was made, a piece of clay formed at the potter’s wheel, baking perfect and good.
Taking His paddle with a scoop of earth, tempering on the spinning wheel, the rotating force makes me dizzy with its busy motion. The knife of the potter scrapes the unneeded clay, baking again and sealed once more, a new vessel in the hand of the potter!
“From the abundance of waves from crest to crest seeking rest”
Dark and dreary as a December morning as if flakes of snow are about to fall but in mid September the threat of ashes spew from the sky. The air subjected to smoke and toxic fumes from raging fires.
From the four corners of the earth, a planet in cosmic waste – as if A Requiem of Remembrance is said for a world lost to death!
Coming from the sea of an interior womb of this earth’s unstable waters of fertility A sea room floating in ambience in a fetal position, unaware
The sad seagulls cry searching for a meal turtles, eels, colorful starfish all going about their activity, life screams in the sea encompassed in a grey bowl of captivity There is a feud in the great surge of the waves the fragility of the earth is in compromise
The force of the currents carry to shore chemicals clash vapors pass, tears fall upon ashes turning to stone
Earth is a shell waiting to be filled crushed from the impact of warring swells its tongue muted its eyes scaled ears stung with deafening tones
From the abundance of its waves from crest to crest and ever presseing on to find sweetness of waters What is its destination? It has taken a rest in a sepulcher of death!
A Requiem is said!
Part Two
Choirs sing in lamentations words expressing grief for a world taken by the thief succumbed in silence in an allegorical dream The earth lays in a coffin – Forgotten!
Chanters pressed together in black disguise leather sandals ready for the battle ringing of censors chanting their venomous songs
Part Three
“Who will win this battle of death?” “Who will prevail?” Angels answer! “Jesus, He is victor over death” “Victory is won! Oh death where is your sting? Salvation He brings!”
Earth’s chanters lift their voices in unison marching against the curse of the dying and dead A Requiem of Life now Sung and “Amen” is said!
The trees are slowly changing their colors some sooner than others – ones of all sizes and shapes surrender their leaves, but one stands stronger than the rest!
The breeze blew upon the trees the poplar beech and willow, once providing shade now their leaves in piles lay but the old oak tree stands alone fully dressed quietly defying the rest. Not one leaf shakes, not one branch breaks. It is unshaken! . . . Standing below this majestic tree, surveying the strength it is to me, I like the oak holding on to the the old, must wait in His time making room for the new. Until then I am unshaken!
And the sky was blue, the air clean, only in the distance was the haze that our inversion brings. But as the morning hours continued and smoke began to fill the western sky, the mountains and hills are hidden from view . . . we thought we had been spared but once again devastation is brought upon our land.
The creatures have no perch to raise their young to rest their wings Yet unlike us, when tragedy comes and into despair we fall, they spread their flight to brighter spots
Please may we be reminded the blade of grass will once again push up through dust and ashes The grain of wheat will bring bread again to our tables And though we cannot see it now the hills hidden from our view will one day reappear when the sun breaks through!
“[We] will lift up [our] eyes to the hills, from where comes [our] help”
Every morning I visited the meadow where the pleasant summer flowers grew the daisies with their sunshine faces and lily white petals until there was a meadow full of paper dolls dancing in the middle
Then I visited one day and all the summer flowers had faded and were gone petals fallen one by one crumbled and soiled and fallen to the ground
And I began to mourn when a voice said “Do not weep for each have saved a pocket full of seed and leaves have made a bed for them to sleep in place of the daisies the asters and mums have raised their heads Red rosy apples and sweet vines of grapes will reap a harvest where a meadow full of paper dolls once again will come out to play!
“Consider the lilies how they grow, they neither spin nor toil yet [Kings] in all their glory were not arrayed like one of these” Book of Luke 12:27
No longer will there be fear between the lion and the lamb . .
We have the promise and by faith may we believe “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid … the calf and the lion together and a little child shall lead them”
Donna's Poetry Blog 