Poetry

Leap

Peering over the precipice
the ground
a long way down
Dare to take the leap
or stay on solid ground?

The path so empty
nowhere left to run
the fear is overwhelming
yet a desire overcomes,

To trust in you
Even if it hurts
Even when it’s hard
When all else fails and
I’m broken, alone
Costly trust
Sacred trust
You lead me on.
My comforter.
My strength.
My song.

Confusion longs to reign
thoughts flooding in
attempts to understand
protect
comprehend.
You ask me to take your hand
and leap.
Trusting you are there
to catch me when I fall.

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Poetry

unravelling

Bit by bit,
layer by layer,
You undo me.

Each level
winding upwards
cascading downwards
to the very core
of me.

a gentle tug,
steady pulling,
peeling back,
removing.

I watch this
messy unravelling,
each knot of hesitation
a pause,
the gentle precision
the tangle released.

The undoing,
unravelling.
Each threadbare piece
reveals that which is 
becoming real
that which cannot be
undone.
Poetry
With a heavy thud, metal scrapes soil,
breaking,
exposing,
lifting,
turning,
shaking loose to repeat again.

Weathered hands stoop low
invading the wound,
scraping,
turning,
prying out the stones.

Light streams into broken ground
warmth pervades cold damp soil.
Gentle hands invade again,
poking,
digging,
planting seeds.

Water drenches
chilling floods of nourishment.
Darkness decends,
the protective cover of soil.
Dormant dreams must lie in wait.
Poetry

Carry On

The shrill buzz of insects fills the air,
busy in their preparations as afternoon light fades away.
Soggy ground squishes under slow heavy steps,
deliberate in their placement
testing their footing
trudging through swampy marsh.
Sweat drips from furrowed brow, eyes squint in fading light.
Pests of the night seek relief, swatted away by steady hands.
Eyes search out a place to set up camp,
relief from the heat.
The rest is not long, a quagmire awaits weary travellers who don’t move on.
With dawn, the journey continues.
The muffled steps drowned out by
birds chattering, singing their morning song.
The traveller carries on.
End not yet in sight, the journey still unfolding, tho weary, carry on.
With each step, discovery,
the bog holds relics of those who’ve gone before,
guideposts towards home.