She hath wings
Learning to soar above life's storms
Category: poetry
-
Gentle, calming soaking rain; Soothing, reassurance comes- Running into tiny pools; Drought a banished thing. Peaceful hearts and minds refreshed; Hope unfurls the weary leaf- Crumpled saplings rise once more; Death a banished thing. Upwards grows the tender stem; Seeking warmth of midday sun- Buds are waiting, hearts receiving; Life a chosen thing. ©️ M.…
-
In a house with chaos, loud and draining, Lives two frazzled parents asking For wisdom in droves and abundance of patience, Stretched beyond anything they’ve ever known. Hard to explain one day to the next; Calm for a short time then busy at best; Never quite enough hands or love in action- Someone always lacking…
-
I thought I would share one of my early poems that I wrote to capture the hope I found in Jesus. It shows that the development of faith is not always a straightforward one and that there are tests and struggles which prove it to be genuine. It also illustrates that hope is found through…
-
Reblogging an old poem that still means so much on my journey. From my heart came a cry, Which You helped me share in words; When I was weak and crushed, You helped me recognise the storm. Not from You, but for good- You allowed this storm to come; Though it damaged, You restored, As…
-
Staring into nothingness- A place familiar now; Tears cannot suffice; A heart of jagged shards. Months turn into years, Yet behind wooden doors, We wrestle with ugly feelings; The true story unfolds; Nana’s not coming today; Papa won’t call again- Baby won’t even know, The joy we had with them; Months then years of pain-…
-

Isn’t it joy beyond words, When the guard is let down, And smiles brim with love? True friendship of the lasting kind; Time never enough. Muscles relax as words fall like snowflakes- Gentle and inviting, Lighthearted and fun; Silence no longer the undesirable- Comfy enough. A longing to be known more deeply than before- Stories…
-

It’s hard to keep showing up My smile, glued to the shattered pieces; Like a mirror, never again, Will it ever be the same, And all the while, my eldest stony; Running me out of town, In his thoughts His words and actions; Every day a war zone- Never quite sure if he’s friend or…
-
You are more than the tiny box they put you in- More than the insults that crippled your soul- You chose to stay- you chose to repair, But those pieces weaken when repeatedly glued. Your life now a mosaic of “has been” and “might have been”- Dearly treasured and Deeply painful- Mixed media- an unfinished piece;…