Desolate.
Alone.
Empty.
No neighbors.
The wind rattles my walls.
Snow layers my roof.
No peace.
Cold.
Icicles hang low.
A deafening silence.
Will winter end?
Will the horses return?
I wait and hope.
Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton
THE FALLEN
Tree branches bend,
scarred by age.
Beaten by the storm,
many hit the ground
amid piles of leaves.
Without a proper burial,
no one mourns their loss.
The fallen won’t be forgotten
as replacements take root
in the shade of the tall trees.
Sunshine filters through the forest,
lighting the way for the future.
BUDS OF HOPE
In midst of despair and sorrow
rise buds of hope for the morrow.
Still standing upright and strong
against all that can go wrong.
These are extreme times of confusion and change,
media expanding over a broader range.
We are attacked by sounds in each direction,
leaving no time for thinking and reflection.
These flowers know what’s real,
they go by what they feel.
Away from the hustle and bustle,
they grow wild without any tussle.
A day to clear my cluttered mind is all I need,
to recharge my battery is what I should heed.
I’ll recharge in a quiet place like this,
a zest for life is what I dearly miss.
We wait for the night,
dry from the sun,
weak to our roots.
We yearn for moisture,
petals limp,
stems drooping.
We wait for the night,
for the moonlight
to ease our pain.
We wait for the dew
to quench our thirst,
to replenish our souls.
We wait for the sun
to lift its fiery head
and begin its daily ritual.
We are ready
to face the new day
with arms lifted.
Reflections from above
surround me like a glove.
Hues of purple and pink
make me ponder and think.
I lift my face high
to the starry sky.
What is the reason I am here?
Why do I live my life in fear?
Questions in my mind
seek what I can’t find.
A shooting star streaks by.
“Is this my answer?” I sigh.
A bird perches near my arm.
I jump in fear and alarm.
Its black eyes stare back at me
and with a wink, it flies free.
I am alone with the night
with the moon at its full height.
My fear falls away like a cloak.
I begin to cry with a choke.
The bird has shown me a place
where I can reveal my face.
A place of illusion.
Windswept nights.
Are your eyes deceiving you?
Has a waterfall appeared
where once stood a beach?
A river to replace an ocean.
Anything is possible.
If you believe in it.
// stairs // middle of 2014 // panasonic dmc-zs15 (by Georg Nickolaus)www.azurgrau.com
Lead me far away from the darkness.
Up these stairs, I will find my way.
I’m tired of living in this sadness.
Time to scope out a new day.
As I climb, the light taunts me.
It hits me square in the eye.
I squint as I try to see.
I must spread my wings and fly.
I’m thrust into a party at full throttle.
The sounds of laughter and music cocoon me.
I find life outside instead of a bottle.
I fly free and far away from the old me.
A LEAP OF FAITH
Take a leap with me.
A leap of faith into the unknown.
Whom can you trust?
Is there anyone in your life
that you can trust with yours?
A hard question to ask.
An even harder one to answer.
TOUCH THE RAINBOW
I take the winding path shaded in red
instead of hiding in my comfy bed.
The road widens and narrows its scope
as it weaves away from any hope.
Blood red threatens the night sky
as laughter follows me high.
Rivers of crimson red coat my tired feet
as I walk the road of shame and defeat.
Why cannot life take the high road?
I ask if I may be so bold.
Ahead I see a bright light
as I rise with all my might.
I run toward the rainbow in my mind
in the colors and hues, I hope to find.
Full of worries and contradictions,
it blasts away any chance of peace.
Thoughts jumbled in cobwebs,
lining halls of utter despair.
Bells ring along curved walls,
warnings to take care.
One hole is filled
as another emerges.
A shovel can’t do the job,
won’t save me from my pride.
Sleep, be my savior,
refresh my state of mind.
Bring hope to this desert landscape,
full of worries and contradictions.
