Tag: poetry

You not Me

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If my eyes can gaze upon you not me

To care, to serve, to pray, to worry some

Then maybe my burdens will soften a bit

For I have fixed my angst off my tender frame.

If I can plan my day to give more away

My time, talent, and resources to you not me

For a new challenge that maybe stretches me a bit

Then we shall both emerge stronger when tomorrow comes.

For what good is a man if he gains the whole world

And weakens his soul by burying it deep in self-pity

When we can travel together for awhile

You and I, carrying your bags then you lifting mine.

Seems like a better deal dontcha think

For the moments when I do return home to rest, to reflect

Will find new meaning in what it means to live

When the Lord dwelling in my heart spills over to you.

He is the One Who makes all these things possible

These ups, these downs, these trips veering off that away

We must but trust in His gracious plan, every detail

As He is the reason for you, for me, for glory and goodness too.

The Proper Blend

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Like a fine wine that melds flavors as it seasons in an oak barrel over time

Everything I do is a mixture of good and the other from meals to enduring “it” all.

My beloved likes his hot sauce, his cheesy toppings and bold flavors along the way

Mine’s gotta be subdued, seasoned with salt from the sea and little else but with ghee.

In the area of health my River Bear gets on the water even on a late wintry day

Where I rejoice if I can wander outside with the pup or try the more mundane of little things inside.

Steve puts up with so much:  dashed plans, travels alone, a romantic night turned into caregiving

Wifey-poo’s illness cancels plans, sours the embrace, changes everything we once held dear, I sigh.

There is no proper blend when dark symptoms fend off many moments of goodness again and again

We just Cape Diem my love, for we know not how long we have anyways as we pray and pray and pray.

Tis a lesson learned to live in the moment, capturing each breath expanded with gentle care

For we never know what may come before the movie credits roll . . . beyond the edge of what we once held so near.

Will deliverance come tomorrow or much later than that with this new thingy again to try?

Like the windows that saw the sun shine on them today, I will wait expectantly on my Lord with my Gentle Hero at my side.

Digging down deep

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Beneath the wet earth from the late season snow

Chilled like the flavorless angst of my threadbare resolve,

Lies packages of hope:  those tubers, those bulbs yet asleep

Waiting for their time when the sun awakens their beauty in Spring.

Toil not, they do not, using their time of dormancy for its purpose instead

Such that life may burst forth with all that emerges from within

Stored in seasons past, full of sugar-coated memories divided between

The new members, the seeds that join miraculous transformation:  the celebration of life as it comes.

How may I be like the created things all around knowing I am so much more —

Use my time of spinning, of strife, of waiting, of failure whilst holding on for my day of celebration too?

For I am worth more than the fruits of the earth, the birds of the air soaring on high

The giant wonders of dark seas, the furry and creepy crawly ones all around

For they have no sense of wonder to bother to reason or ask the mysterious, the “why?”

They simply trust in the DNA of their making and bid their calling to each moment in time.

I may never know the answers to my questions, my quest to make sense of this suffering that goes on

And that must be good enough for me anyways to make the most of what I have been given

As perhaps a stewardship issue, a story told more in the heavenlies than for me here on God’s green earth to know

That someday, digging down deep in my own soul, my Lord will reveal His glory and I will be glader than the raven capturing her prey from above.

Until then, Gentle Reader, we two must trust in the plans set forth by our Father God

Knowing full well that more lies ahead than the lime green leaves birthed from the showers of April

We shall see God and He will love us now til the end of the age when we blossom to the fullness of our destiny

Everlasting, everbearing, ever singing praise to the Most High Who had our hearts all along dear one . . . He said so . . . the beauty from ashes came as we went on and believed.  JJ

Prickly pear cactus, Indiana, cactus, yellow, flowers, garden, gardening, Zone 5, garden themes, poetry

The Space Between

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Perhaps this was a movie title or that of an old business card

Ah, the lingering spaces between events good, bad, or ugly

Do hold some value despite their lack of measurement on scale.

I spend them wandering through the hallways of our home by day by night

From bed to couch to chair to bed, ahhhhh not much going on here

When sickness marks the hours wanting for an answer, something new.

Antibiotics are on hold from now til whenever as this past year ends

With little change beyond fewer hours of the worst of the hell, I guess

And the unwelcome addition of thirty-four new diagnoses to boot!

I have learned so much of what to do and what not to do as well

My stack of papers tell a long tale witnessed by ERs, a few friends,

A weary husband, and scores of medical peeps paid by someone to care.

My goal to find meaning in these places between crises, visits to hell

Has gone dry like a wellspring once filled with life now bone on bone dry

Stained with spent tears, one worn-out puppy, and a purse now threadbare.

The money went away with five years of living the, uh, alternative life:

Don’t call me “disabled” for there still is a bit o’ fight within me, down deep

To endure this long “medical leave” on my way to a makeover not yet revealed.

So as I breathe in the goo between the more defined places of this life

I take note that here is where energy can move along unencumbered

And one day may bring me to my own railway “Station” or at least my next big stop . . .

♥

Gentle Reader, I hope you will be there waiting for me, won’t you?  JJ