It arrived, it was a solemn Occasion, people were Hesitant, I did not know why. I tried to look in, but I was Too small and it was too tall. A narrow box, I was curious, What was in it?
I tried to lift the lid, but my Fingers could not reach. With each attempt I became More intent to see what this Box meant.
As time went by I became Older, going back to see if Perhaps I could open it now.
I visited the box when life was Violent and I was seeking Silence.
Visiting a garden of rest, as They lowered a box in the earth, There were similarities to the One I had seen as a child. Then I knew it was for those who Had ceased.
That could be me!
And then one day I fell asleep, And was planted in the box Reserved for me.
Waiting to be broken and come To new life. But no earthly box could contain My soul, for when it is time for Me to rise, ‘
He will cry!
Pulling me through this earth’s Crust, I am thrust out of the Box to receive the heavenly Prize, one the coffers of this Earth cannot provide!
“Those who believe in Me, even Though they die, yet shall they live” John 11:25
A time between dusk and twilight, as shadows fill the sky the sun grows weary and bows its head, fading in the west and then dies
An evening star dressed in its gown of sparkling silver and gold is a happy star with a smile on its face it has five tips, a head, two arms and two legs now the big dipperis late spilling the stars, filling the nighttime sky
The evening star feels important holding up the skyalone one night it gets tired of hanging there one arm begins to fall, then the otherlets go
It calls to the rest, “hurry quickly I can’t hold up this sky any longer it is too much, I have done my best“ the big dipper then hurries lifting its ladle, sprinkling star dust in the stars eyes Awakening, spreading their light
The evening star is now content knowing it is no longer alone evening gives way to a softlight of day, when the stars are done
I wonder sometimes, do we get tired of holding up this world Forgetting there is a Godto do our bidding?
Some are happy some are sad, always hoping for one that makes us glad!
“In our many travels we moved around often, never staying anywhere very long“
A child of a mother who traveled all around, but one that loved us the best she could, everywhere she went we went too, taking us for a ride over hills, bumps and ridges, telling a story, one that would unravel in time
Little toy people playing In their home Pretending they are happy But feeling all alone Toy mother and father Playing their rolls, they They can see out but no One can see in Little toy furniture A bed and a couch, but No one could rest, too Much noise and confusion There is no table or Cupboards For there is no food The little tea set is Shattered along with the Child We get in the little toy Car and move right along From place to place But we won’t stay long Stopping here and there Just in case I have hung on to my Memories They are all I know Too scared to let them go Searching for a home For one that evades this Child Who plays the role in the Little Toy house
“But one day it will be provided”
For it has been promised
“In my father’s house there are many mansions There are many rooms…
“Violet! Sweet Violet! Your eyes are full of tears, Are they wet, even yet, with the thought of other years?
James Russell Lowell
I really like flowers, I raise African violets, and find sometimes they Can be challenging, and quite sassy. They don’t like too much water, when they get soggy they are not Very happy, too much sun, they get grumpy, but with a little love and Care they can be content, and bring much cheer!
Snuggled in their beds Watered and fed Happy where they are Planted Dresses of pink, purple And lavender with bright Yellow eyes This home is all they have Known Sprouting from a seed, then Leaves, buds and flowers
What a great life they have Amongst all the others One morning, perking their Heads from a good nights Rest A shadow is descending A large hand reaches over And bending low, these Pretty violets are lifted from Their beds Disturbed, wondering where They are going They are placed in a box A little violet begins to Cry
“My pot is the smallest Surely you can squeeze me in Please don’t leave me behind” Quickly placing it in the box With the others, then truck Engines are rolling, they are Scared as they travel down The road, not sure where They are going The way seems long and they Are tired Suddenly the truck comes to A stop
When the man lifts the box Placing them on a shelf Their eyes are startled, from Darkness, into bright light Their leaves are drooping, their Flowers are dropping They are not very pretty As people are passing The littlest one cries
“Our toes are cold and soggy And we have caught a chill Please, won’t you give us a Chance and take us home Before we die?” “A time to heal is what we need After our difficult ride” A sprinkle of water, their heads Begin to perk And people start to look “These violets are prettier than Before I think I will buy them” Shadows are passing, they Are placed in a window
Sparkling If not for their time of disaster They would not be brighter Filling this home with Laughter!
“You have been my friend, replied Charlotte, that in itself is a tremendous thing”
Charlotte’s Web
Spiders can be creepy and scary, and sometimes frightening, But they can be whimsical and funny and fun to watch. One day when I was walking, I came upon some juniper Bushes with some spider webs spun amongst the juniper berries. I thought about how diligent and earnest these little creatures are, and wrote a little poem.
“And I quote David Ansen, because I suspect he speaks for many audience members who entered the theatre in a devout or spiritual mood and emerged deeply disturbed, this is one of the most violent movies I have seen”
Roger Ebert
Its been just short of two decades ago, at Easter time, when one of the most questionable movies was released, that stunned the world with violent scenes of brutality and graphic images.
‘The Passions Of The Christ’ was witnessed by many in horror at the cruelty toward an innocent man, depicting the last twelve hours of his life, tortured and crucified. What was the reason for a Man to be beaten and presented as a spectacle to the world?
Many were perplexed and wondered why? Had the producer forgotten to include, that Christ’s love for us took Him to the cross?
That we would be delivered from the feelings we struggle with from abuse and injustice, thinking no one cares, that
He willingly took our torments upon Himself, that we may be delivered and spared!
Donna's Poetry Blog 