Spider in the Window

Spider in the window
Moss upon the stone
Fading leaves upon the ground
From autumns long ago.

Spider in the window
Weaving all alone
Some strange riddle we've not found
With patience sure and slow.

In the wooded shadows
Moss is on the stone
That walls the garden all around
So all has time to grow.

In the warm summer glow
There lying all alone
Fading leaves upon the ground
From autumns long ago.

Spider in the window
Spinning all alone
Soon your web will be found
And both of you will go.

In the wooded shadows
Moss upon the stone
Will be scraped onto the ground
'Cause the garden is for show.

All the dead leaves must go
Away they must be thrown.
Fading leaves upon the ground
That withered long ago.

The Night my Mother Left

The night my mother left, it snowed, big beautiful flakes that drifted down from heaven in soft patterns. They fell almost as if they were trying to negate the last words she spoke to me as she stormed out the door.

“Tell your sister I love her, I love her very much, I love her dearly.”

She said those words loudly and clearly. Her voice rang throughout my house. The look in her eyes, clearly vindictive, emphasized the words that she had spoken. The look emphasized the words that were not spoken, the words that left me with an empty gap in my heart.

She loved me too, right? I was sure she did. Deep down somewhere inside her I was sure she still felt an iota of the love she once held. Mothers always did that, right?

I watched her climb into her car and back out of the garage faster than usual. I watched as she drove off into the night; the snow swirling behind her. Christmas bells seemed to tinkle in the wake of her departing. I could almost hear them and as I stood there, shocked and dismayed. I could almost hear the Baby Jesus crying in his manger, the same way my heart was crying now.

To Wonder and Wander

Wonder of beauty and wonder of life!

Oh that this sparkle held no strife!

Some sing of spring and some of fall,

Others think but don’t care at all.

Hope of a future and the future of a dream;

If its result is none but to beset and scheme,

Where is the purpose that had driven it so?

Why isn’t your heart willing to let go?

Perhaps, God seems distantly here or there,

And you think that your pain is too hard to bear.

One moment you relish in the sun’s golden light;

You savor its warmth and protection from night.

But when your world becomes a fragile thing,

You cease then to trust and have no voice to sing.

The music that once flowed freely from your heart,

Has lost all its worth, its beauty and art.

Wonder of God and wonder of heaven!

Have we ever known a love so deeply given?

Here within our grasp a truth ever constant,

Are we such fools to ignore it one instant?

Our agony is of our own compromise.

Do we then wonder “Why this demise?”

Our shame is of our own wistful desire.

Can we ask of God “Why now this fire?”

Wonder of mercy and wonder of grace!

That from me He would not turn his face!

God ever worthy and through Him alone,

Can now my blindness His forgiveness atone!

Never before could I ever be free;

Until Jesus set His perfect eyes on me.

Now in me understanding is clear,

With God on my side what is there to fear?

The Throne Room of Drama

Drama… something I never considered myself to be a “queen” of, nor yet even a great lover of… Yet, now, I find myself intrigued, inexplicably drawn to that beautiful feeling of becoming someone else- of allowing myself to become lost in the character and person of one through whom I can express the deepest emotions of the heart. I never envisioned that I would be a part of this peculiar entourage of people, but now that I have entered this realm, my views seem to be transforming… I never thought I would ever admit I am becoming a lover of the court of drama, but, my heart now palpitates with a certain energy at the thought of entering the throne room of drama, presenting myself to the King with all the energy and nervousness of a lowly servant. Before I even enter the throne room, my heart and mind plead for the work of the King’s influence to be seen through my presentation. I have labored; I have meditated on the life of the one whom I am portraying; I have been instructed and taught; and now that I have the opportunity to present myself before the court and the King, I desire nothing more than the King’s approval. He alone is the One Whose approval matters. He has created this beautiful throne room for His glory, and as I enter it, humbly, I am amazed that He would choose to give me this opportunity. Butterflies tremble within my being, my mind overwhelmed with the enormity of this entire production before the King. As I step out into the room, the courtiers, noblemen, and servants seem to fade into a mass of blurred humanity. Instead, I lose myself in the glory of these moments before the King. I expend my energy- allowing every fiber of my being to be caught up in this opportunity before Him. The moments are gone too soon, and I step back, albeit reluctantly, from the throne room, my mind whirling with the exhilaration I still feel. I pace back and forth, waiting for my fellow dramatists to complete the production over which we have labored for so long. Finally, the ending… I re-enter the throne room, along with my fellow servants- for that is truly what we are before the King… I gaze out at the sea of people, their faces are smiling, their expressions are joyous… But, what about the King? I cannot see Him, yet His presence is felt. The people of the court exclaim over the professionalism of our performance, the liveliness of the presentation, the beauty of our appearance… in spite of the praise though, I feel nothing but gratitude. The presence I still feel of the King washes over me as I realize He was here. He is here. Nothing can shake the beauty of this feeling. He has been pleased to give us this opportunity, stretching us, molding us, and now that it is over, I feel that He has grown us- me in particular. My heart is saddened at the thought that our production is finished, never again to be performed in like manner; yet, the sadness is repelled by the thought that the King is presenting me with another opportunity to share, again, in this venue of drama- to be allowed, again, to enter His throne room and to present, again, to the court His glory. The opportunity blooms before me… will I grasp it, allowing myself to once again, be lost in the beauty of the King’s gift of drama?

Embracing the End of My Old Self

I woke in the morning with your head on my chest,
Everything was happy, the beauty and the blest.
The rays on the panes flooded the room through thick dust.
I traced your face with my fingers in thoughtless trust,
And then down your perfect profile in selfish lust.
I stopped in horror at the base of your tight palms -
-Gripping a blade-
-Your choice was made-
-Now you’ve decided to silence the calms-

Your eyes, once closed in peaceful sleep, I see now were merely closed to keep me unsuspecting as I pulled you closer into a warm embrace.

I never saw the knife.
I never saw your eyes.
Now fearing for my life,
I turn from all your lies.

What have I left undone to let you so close?
Once upon a time, I would have cut the nape,
Of all that would have held me back,
But this time my defenses were down,
And you came back to me, yes, you came back to me.
Why couldn’t I see that you were aiming for my soul?
Just like every other time.

…But I trusted you, yes I trusted you…
…But I hated you, yes I hated you…
…But I loved you, yes I loved you…

“Never again, you lied.” I cried.
“But here you are once more,
Sleeping at my side.
I don’t think that I can heal from the wound this time.
I have had enough.
You will pay for your crimes.

I pushed you aside as you slashed for my heart.
I ran from the bedroom and down to the cellar.
In every mirror I saw your face.
In every reflection, your shame and disgrace.
I picked up a chair and destroyed my reflection.
I grasped a long shard of glass and came back after you.
You were out in the garden wilting the roses.
You turned to face me with a knife in your hand.
You tried to conceal it behind your back.
But I knew - This Time, I knew.

You came so close to me,
With innocence in your beautiful eyes.
You offered to try again,
And I said no words as I came even closer.
You placed your free hand on my shoulder,
And put your lips to mine
For a second, just a second, I thought,
“Maybe this time?”
But no. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Never again. Never again.

The look on your face turned from pleasure to shock.
You staggered back from me and gave me a hurt look.
Your hair fell loose over your eyes, whose sparkle was slowly fading.

I caught you in my arms,
And gently brought your beautiful body,
Down to the bed of the garden.
You looked deep into my eyes,
As the life blood ebbed from your veins.
I thought to pull you close…
…For one last time…
…And bring your lips to mine…
But I merely said,
“Dearest, know this,
I loved you.
I tried.”