Love

Seeking

Not a daisy

But a chamomile will do

Not your usual

But your best try will do

Seeking for a calm in you

Seeking for something, I may have lost from you

Not a sunflower

But a daisy will do

It would light me up

But that was a while, a stalk from you I got

Seeking for the light from then

Seeking in between the flickers and the blackouts

Not a friend at this moment

Maybe, better acquaintance than stranger

Not the butterflies in my stomach feeling

But a hint of affection would suffice

Seeking for a reassuring word, or touch even

Seeking…for a withdrawn soothing

To Be A Mom

To be a Mom

Is like a daily sunrise

Every day unlike before

But a new beginning

For new lessons

To be a Mom

Is to forego self

No longer self absorbed 

But nurturing another 

A birth and rebirth

To be a Mom

Is to unearth hidden strength 

Strength never before perceived

Awake for baby, hungry for baby

Every emotion shared with baby

To be a Mom

Is a deeply fulfilling experience 

A Gift from God Almighty

To Woman

Because She was made for This

Postpartum

Toes to fingers

And a smile that lights up a room

Yet if my stare lingers

Tears will take over

Chin to chest

And a push that brought silence

Yet if I talk of then

Again, tears will take over

Hands to my Bible

And a new me calling out to Abba

I know only He understands me

Tears are still falling, but one day they shan’t

Toes to fingers

And the babbling of “mama”

I look at my boy with love

A love I hadn’t ever known

The Meadowlark

Oh hear,

How beautifully the meadowlark sings

To ambience, she has been open to

A not so distant time ago

When she asked if she may be vulnerable

And so she has sang songs

Songs to proclaim joy

Songs that reveal her heart

Songs to re-echo reassurance

Songs that have unearthed her flaws

But one song, sang, but not in entirety

A song for a duet

A song where she promises no detachment

A song where she promises to always bare her all

Ambience failing her

So she sings alone

And it is painful

She’s been vulnerable all along

But a wall is up, put up by Ambience

She sings, wanting not to be a nuisance to the ear

To the ear of the one

The one that she gave her heart to

The one that bares little emotionally

The one that is teaching her old habits

The meadowlark sings and has sang!

But the day approaches when she decides

That to be mute and detached, is her elixir

Good Morning, Good Night

I thought about you

So I texted to say good morning

And then I thought about you some more

My text, as useful as an unsent one

I thought about you

So I texted to say good night

Then came dawn, but no response

And so I thought some more

Something about a good morning text

A little sweetness to my day,

Something about a good night text

Soothing, for some sound sleep,

Like a pinch of salt or a spritz of perfume,

Blush on my cheeks for a pop of color,

Like a drop of water, making a mighty ocean

The little things go so far

The fewest of words may change a day,

For tomorrow isn’t given

The fewest of words, may be the last you ever say,

Because sleep may come and be deep

So good morning, my dear

I thought of you

And I pray you have a good night

Godwilling, you hear from me on the morrow

Canvas

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this

But I tell you now, the story

Of the paint splattered canvas

Once white and bare

Awaiting kaleidoscopic ideas

Of painter, once in euphoria

It wouldn’t have ended up like this

But here is the story

Of the birth of insecurities

Once unknown, some well managed

But words sowed seeds

In a painter, once self assured

It shouldn’t have ended up like this

But the story is clear

The canvas white, no more

And awe no more, to its beholder

Because of unkind words and opinions

The painter, now in need of an inner mending

The Man with One Chair

The man with one chair

Likes to sit alone

One will catch a glimpse of him

When the worn out country sun

To the horizon, has gone

The man with one chair

A beer for company

But in his thoughts

Miss Alabama, is wandering

Can you fathom this mystery?

That man with one chair

Won’t be alone for too long

Till sweet lil’ Miss Alabama

Goes sashaying his way

Wowing just enough, to capture his gaze

A capture of two now in her trove

The man with one chair

May soon give out his seat

Props out to Miss Alabama

For stealing his gaze, his heart and now, his chair

Anticipating

There, there, my love

See how the gap bridges in

Distance is fading, time is nigh

The genesis of our union,

One full of awe and purpose

It’s happening, I see you soon

The giddiness of potential

Oh, what an unfolding, we behold now

The realization of loving and being in love

Thus far we have come

Thus far the Lord has brought us

The Lord has been good and faithful

Anticipation is an understatement

See my body, ever so eager

Arms mimicking an embrace

My shoulders, they prepare,

A resting place for your head

And my heart, ever jumpy like an anxious puppy

We have known for a while

That we’re worth each other’s time

We’ve cultivated a garden

That bears fruits of love

To say I love you is not enough

But I’m forever thankful that we found each other

“I know I can trust you, but…”

Trust, like a tree in autumn

Questioned by the unknown

I know I can trust you, but…

Said branches to leaves

Said leaves to branches

Trust may break

Trust may be shaken

Trust may be lost, completely

Like a leaf in autumn,

One may feel betrayed

When suddenly let go

By whom they thought as their backbone

High up on cloud nine

Left to a plunging, cold fall

Like a branch in autumn

One may be shockingly abandoned

By leaves that leave

One may be made a fool of

By leaves that threaten to leave

That may be you, shaken, broken inside

Trust, like a tree in autumn

Broken by the unpredictable

I know I can trust you, but…

Pockets

A day at a time

A tear that will dry

There is a reason,

There is a season

But still there is despair

A hug to say all is fine

A word of encouragement

To calm a racing mind

But there will still be that moment

Hands in pockets, and emptiness felt

Such is a revisiting sorrow

That comes in waves

Such is a daunting anxiety

That comes uninvited

Such is the guilt felt

For shifting the mood

So I ask that you bear with me

You jolly soul, best friend, confidant

One day it may be well

One day the pockets may be filled

With something other than emptiness

Something worth remembering,

Something that will carve a smile

Undoing

To know that, she’s had you

Over and over

I want to understand

When you say you’re committed

Just how many times must I have you

To teach your body something new?

I say that I’m fine, but these words…

Need undoing , revealing that I’m not

Miss Shelly

Miss Shelly

I call her

For she’s spared these eyes

A humbling moment

I hope that I too

Will someday be a Miss Shelly

She’s clothed in dungarees, blonde hair in a messy bun

She cradles her wee one, who’s also matching her khaki jacket

Miss Shelly

Ever so protective

Very much the doting mother

She loves on her little one

And me? I watch

Till his eyes meet mine

Baby chuckles in delight

What a wonderful sight to behold

Ah Miss Shelly!

She’d do anything for him

She’d put herself last

Miss Shelly, go on and be blessed

And I can’t help but think

Of all the purest connections

My eyes have made

With the very young and innocent

I wish they’d remember

I wish that, this could someday make them smile

I wish they’d know, how for a few minutes

They had made a stranger’s day

He held her close…

He held her close and she lay her head on his chest. The silence competing with the tension, till the latter could no longer bear it. Counting three breaths, she mouthed, “Are you sure we’re not lost in ourselves?”

He held her close and she cuddled up to him, like a koala baby and its mother. In that moment, nothing could shift attention from a bond, formed over distance, over texts, over a forged, genuine love. A bond, now released to temperaments and the intricacies of the human connection

He held her close and they experienced a feeling so familiar, previously emanating in waves, now static. This was home, their home. This love had traveled and finally arrived at its final destination. Sunflowers had always been her favourite. Today in full fictitious bloom, they gave their approval. Joy has cometh

Someday

Someday, worried one

You’ll find the light

Someday, wretched one

You’ll be on the other side

Through the swampy marsh

Over the land mines

Past the naysayers

Beyond any obstacle

Someday, somehow

You’ll rejoice, where the light resides