Three poems

The story I am writing down is not one that I can write without breaks so today I am just going to post 3 poems from the time in the part of the story just shared.


Valley of Shadow

Paths cross sideways and roads run up
Trials crash loud in your ears
The thunder’s rolling. The lightening slashes
The sky while the clouds loose their tears.

Time becomes your enemy.
The moments pass by with their guns.
Yesterday was a fortress wall;
Today – the brotherhood runs.

Laughter echoes in endless canyons;
You run to shut out the sound.
Crying anger to still the voices
You stumble and crash to the ground.

Footsteps sound in a quiet world
Trembling you wait for a frown;
Then someone reaches his arms to you
And helps you up off the ground.

Only one set of footprints
Marking the path from here to the end.
He not only walks close beside you;
He carries you round the next bend.

Though I walk through the valley
Of shadow I will not fear
For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff
Give me comfort and cheer.

art 003

A Broken Wing

“This is for you, little girl”
Large, calloused hands reach down
Cupped in their gentle depth—
A butterfly with a broken wing

A matting of leaves,
A cap of water
A quiet place—safe, protected
Just right for healing

Tender care, hovering near
“Heal, little butterfly, heal!”
A childish dream—
A butterfly flown away

You’ve grown, little girl,
You’re a woman now
And time adds creases
To tired dreams

Yet, still, little girl,
Hope reigns supreme
Fluttering in your outstretched hands
A butterfly with a broken wing.



There’s something out there
somewhere, some what, some when
I don’t even know the questions to ask
or to answer
Yearning, fleeting glimpses,
elusive dreams straining to be
Not knowing, not known
but somewhere, someday.

Why can’t I find the question
to unlock the prison door?
Hope, despair, dreams fulfilled
mixed and jostled,
tossed to blend
Indistinguishable phantoms
howling through the doors
and windows of my—

My what? Myself? My soul?
What hidden place
is yet to open?
Will I like what is there?
Will I sing for joy?
Or will I mourn
the metamorphosis
of my dreams?


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