The Poetry Marathon

I stepped out onto

the cool flagstone step..

The sun beat me

like an incessant drum.

Roasting the pavement

like the fires of Purgatory..

I looked before me,

I looked behind me,

I looked to my right,

I looked to my left.

The Ancient of Days

Who Is

yesterday

and today

and tomorrow…

tenderly gazed

through the flames…

waiting….

for every penny

to be accounted for.

Not as a stern judge

did He stand..

but, as a kind King

and as One Who

Waits.

Longingly.

He pines for His sheep..

to take them in His arms..

so they can rest forever.

Dusk comes brisk and streaks the sky

dusting her cheeks all rosy..

and it paints her eyes all blue.

It gilds the horizon as though

it were an icon,

peering past the surface..

the onlooker observes deeper realities.

Fraught with beauty,

this moment stands still

as a memoir

as a testament

to a symphony

we cannot see.

Breathing

Sighing

Singing

Dying

Hush, the baby is sleeping.

I want her to dream her dream…

the vision stretches far

like a sea of mercy..

mysterious and deep.

Hush, for she will awake

if we don’t tread in silence…

like fairies on tiptoe

through the lilies, unsullied.

Her closed eyes

now open upon the sight

of a great City.

The flowers sing, the birds talk,

and there is pain no more.

Hush, for the baby is sleeping.

She is dreaming a dream.

I will eat no more today.

But, she is dreaming.

There was a Light in the Garden..

Holy and pure.

Sweet melodies rang out

soft and sure.

Eden: a treasure, a blessing, a gift.

an endless bounty…

until the Rift.

How long o’er it’s paths

did they tread?

How many whispered wisdoms

were shed?

Then, there, the Tree

with tempting fruit

to lead astray,

granting evil salute..

to the one who would destroy

and bring the Dark

upon the world.

Then, the Dark seemed to triumph

on another Tree.  

God was dead

with certainty.  

But, as it chuckled

deep and grim

over the violence

done to Him…

another Garden Gate

opened wide.

The Key

had been

His stricken Side….

From which flowed Water and Blood

upon the earth

from Sacred Wood.

Before the Darkness had been

the light.  

But, it has come back

forever bright.          

Break free, little angel,

from earthly chains.

Unbound, then, fly

to the Far Away.

Seek your rest

upon the Holy Mountain.

Embraced by tears

which wash over you

like aspergere.

Plucked wildflower,

you bloomed early.

The stream on the mountain

sustains you.

It is your breath….

Your Life.

A sacrifice we offer, a Sacrifice we pray

as we go forward upon this glorious, wretched day.

Humble resurrection..

a transfiguration…

the word became flesh…

but then, the Lord gives, and He takes away.

On this day when life goes forth

Blood and Water are poured.

Mercy lives on despite death….

in His daily Word:

“Let the children come to Me and do not hinder them,

for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.”

Thanks be to God.

Hi, my name is Tanya and I love to write poetry. How good it is..well… I don’t know. But, I love it, so I do it. 🙂  I like to focus on the good, true, and the beautiful, attempting with my poor words to light a candle in the world. I have a crazy day on Saturday, so we’ll see how this full marathon goes! I will write while going about my day, though I won’t always be handy to the internet.  So, on Saturday, I will have to post my hourly poems later.

I will probably write about faith, hope, and the loves of my life…. and maybe, if the words flow, I will have some deep ponderings in the wee hours. I was looking to challenge myself to get myself writing poetry again. So, it seems, I found that challenge.  Thank you for the opportunity and good luck everyone!

(p.s. I have arthritis and it is starting to bother me in my right hand so, I’m hoping it won’t get worse and hinder my typing! ah well, perhaps it will make for a good poem?)