#1 Blue Broken glass litters the floor. As I hug my daughter against my shattered heart. I feel her warm tears. We sit huddled against the refrigerator door. All this breakage... She’ll want to come back to us again… . . . …I’ll probably say yes... #2 Green The sun is a pale disc. The fog bank moves in from the South. Everywhere is grey and shrouded, Except the grass beneath my feet. It remains green for me - even when she’s not here. #3 Orange Marigolds Strung in long chains Drape from balconies and across pergolas A hubbub of voices A riot of colour An extravaganza of flavours A painted elephant A sacred fire Two souls are joined
His knees ached
As he knelt upon
The blackbean rail.
His hands clasped in prayer
In the Yakandandah Baptist Church
.
She smelt the soil
As she bowed before
The moss-covered Buddha.
Her forehead cool against the soil
In the forest outside of Da Nang
.
Sweat stung his eyes
As he prostrated himself
On the east facing mat.
Beneath the blue mosaic tiles
Of the mosque at the heart of Bahrain
.
Incense swirled seductively
As she raised her steepled hands
And lowered her eyes.
In the colourful forecourt
Of a temple in downtown Singapore
.
Colour dazzled his vision
As he knelt before the offerings
Bowls of fruit, sweets and spices.
On the steps of the dais
Amongst the bustle of spiritual Varanasi
.
Her heart sang
As she draped the chain of flowers
Around the neck of the elephant God.
On the cold scree slopes
Of the sacred Mount Kailash
.
All souls gather
Before their chosen faith
As they tread a mindful path.
Across the face of one planet
Our mother – Gaia, Earth
.
.
.
Inspired by a photograph on MrsMilnr blog her excellent post titled “Believe”. Cheers Mrs M – your photography always inspires me 🙂
Does the sun rise for me,
Or am I rushing to greet it?
Does the moon forget to touch me
As she slips below the horizon,
Or have I simply failed to watch anymore?
Does a friend slight me,
Or do I fail to understand his pain?
Does a relationship turn sour,
Or was there nothing there to begin with?
Does the old soldier sip quietly on a rum
Because he needs the drink,
Or does he salute dead mates?
Is life a construction site,
or a constant reconstruction site?
.
.
.
I’m not sure…
I honour of all military personnel – past and presently serving and for all those who gave their lives in conflicts around the world – away from home, family and friends. Lest we forget.
Eyes right,
Eyes left.
Eyes front,
Sight down the barrel.
Don’t think,
Think quick.
Follow,
Find,
Lead,
Throw.
Friend and foe,
Watch them go.
Salute the front,
Honour the past.
Be always your best,
Decorate your chest.
Left turn.
Right turn.
Question your life,
Don’t question the order.
Safety off –
Aim and fire.
Copper pennies closed the eyes. Hands folded casually on the chest. A new suit, ready for travel. I look upon my body - my vehicle. It had carried me through life; I had learnt almost everything - I had loved almost everybody - I had seen almost everything. I'd lived, I'd loved... I'll live again.
Removing his slippers
He stepped barefooted onto the smooth pebbles.
Moving slowly, he stooped occasionally,
Careful to collect every fallen, red maple leaf –
Then, using the bamboo rake
He carefully made the patterns she’d loved.
Sitting on a low wooden bench
He now drank his tea and remembered.
His black skin held tight The red blood that pumped life, Until she cut him. Her pale complexion Always hid the red blood, Until she was shamed. Her ancient ancestry Stayed in her red blood, Until the city stole her innocence. Kneeling in prayer Red blood sang through his body, Until hatred ended his life. Our naked desires Our blood red insides Our loves and fears The vessel matters not The souls are all alike. The heart pumps the same - Red blood.
