A Midsummer’s Blog – Page 2 – Though she be but little, she is fierce

grief is a ghost in the bathroom

Grief is a ghost in the bathroom
As you brush your teeth
A glimpse in the mirror
A memory stirred
And pain no one should endure

Frost on Golgotha

Morning slowly dawns
Creeping o’er the hills
Light casting shadows long
Upon the Place of the Skull
Where God died for salvation
And prophecy to fulfill

The Taste of a Soul

An abandoned lover
Weeps for missing the taste
Of his sweet darling’s
Mouth upon his
In the human dance
Known as romance

But the taste of a kiss
And the taste of a soul
Are never the same.
Each hold power
To a weak conscience
Swiftly devour

I feel like

I feel like a mother
Watching these children grow
Nurturing them, kissing their brows
And laying them down to sleep each night

I feel like a father
Directing the children in their way
Watching them learn and grow day by day
And teaching them how to respect their mother

This chest is too small
And my heart is too big
For it to hold correctly
And it strains my muscles
And bends my ribs ajar
With its constant beating
Like a hummingbird in wing

You may recall that back in January I wrote a poem for my little sister’s birthday …a poem about her being a princess (She is). What I didn’t tell you was that I also made a cake for her, one befitting my little princess who so loves blue.

(poem: https://www.teresaholmes.net/2024/01/08/a-poem-i-wrote-for-my-little-sister/)

An unfinished experiment with narration

A Child for the King

I remember when I was born. Distant, and yet, barely a day ago. Sometimes when I lay in the desert sun, breathing in heat and coughing out sand, running my long fingers over my aching wounds, and chanting the prayers of healing, I long for the womb from which I came. It was all warm and wet darkness in the womb and I dwelt within it, existing without purpose yet satisfied with my life. But then it broke. Rocking and confused, dizzying tumbling around in the darkness groping at the bumpy walls, then brilliant light streaming through cracks.

I wish all those I love knew …

midsummer’s chair

Midsummer is coming again
Yet here I am still
Sitting in her chair
At the top of Summer’s hill

Spring

Flowers budding in the yard
A sky so blue it breaks my heart
The hot sunshine raining down
Its light reflecting off Mary’s crown