Tag Archive | prose

Covenant Found by Laura Botsford

Anew

Journey along the wheel of life

What sadness breeds my heart into neglect?

The distraction of misdirected compassion in all too many moments that are either lost or left out in the open for a heartless thief to steal is my greatest battle
To fend off the harsh with words from wounded wings is not my desired shatel
Oh Lord, give me a steadfast heart imbued with a clear calm mind That I may not worry anxiously or fret with somberness
Rather that I am a Joy that sings from the flames.
Caress in me a gentler response made of thy words and ways to defend humanity’s greatest gift, kindness.
Remove from me all negatives, cleanse and rid my life of fire trails
For my chalice now is surely strong and tempered well by the mortar of the consecrated ages of this soul
My Lord, do not abandon this intercessor
Rescue me from the very gloom that I’ve fought so hard to eliminate.
Do away with the fortress of my self-righteousness in the name of love.
Have me remember that all who receive the morning’s first sun will rise together as one ray of golden rebirth rising out of our fallen stardust in simpatico fandangos of mellifluous melodies sung
That I may receive evenings indigo air and sleep peacefully after a day well done. Harken to me over and over again until that which I’ve denied of my soul is the very bread of life fully blended into a fine meal, ground whole, and sound

Where reason and kindness become the communion of a covenant found

 

Days Like These

Days Like These

The rain and storm curves around my kites of bliss and challenges them to compete in the air for life

I have feared, I have lost at the hands of tribulation

I lean and bend as far as the rushes will take

Until they are ripped from the banks, tormented by waters ceaseless falling, flowing dripped and steed in wrenching floods

I am not alone, but it sure feels like it

The lights went out for hours and all I could do was sleep and then sleep some more. Deeply surrendered to a vacuum dreams sucked out of my head

If I were alone in a void

I would know of thee even though we seem to be far apart a passing breeze tells me you are there and I have brushed your cheek.

The editor’s note my alignment of words and thought tend to opt for elaboration, it is a tedious task that is arduous but seeks to transform something complex into a feeling. Oh crap, I think I will go feed the compost with shredded poetry and hope the earth can make something better of it than I can.

I am not a sad writer, just one that is a bit lazy today

The weather bluster of darkness looms in the air with gray, and I fear my new mood swing will take on more damage, once again; I am given this vacant space of pondering to write in.

If only there was someone to listen and say,

“Yeah I get that, and its all right.”

A Portal Portrait

Portrait of a Changing Woman

 

Woman to Woman

    Woman to Woman    by Laura Botsford

I ate of the vine, I ran in the wind, I cried out for wisdom until I had no tears left.

   I looked for love in those that had never kissed the sun to find their own warming peace. Who stayed in shadows because they didn’t know they deserved all that was good.

   They counted money, they bought fancy things and rode in long cars until there were no roads left. They were unaware that wisdom was theirs all along. They left childhood dreams behind in the tall grass; when indeed it was how they saw themselves from the beginning and yet chose to abandon the innocent wonder of it all.

   And why? Because they were told they should, no my dear; it is childlike wonder that always renews, keeps one keen and gladly surrenders a compassionate heart to one in need.

   The pouch of wishes, the rainbows one sees in a sky full of hope, and the ever contemplation of lush avenues of forgotten worlds that tender joyous memories more so than that which was not. This is you, the one with a sparkle of soft indigo in her eyes, the loving one who has hands, and arms always readied  for embrace. There are caverns and causeways that can capture your will, steal your soul. They were carved in times of un-evolved knives of low self esteem, self hatred by wounded knaves of misfortune and to many hardships; the human plight is pithed with these plunderers of joy. You are wise, you are rich with your own experiences, and you have me to talk to.