Poems from the past: Hope

Where darkness is shared, may we also shine light. Here are a few of the poems of hope.

Hazy Morning
-July 28, 2000(LJA)-

They are there
Those haze hidden waves
Rolling across the mighty expanse
Whose other shore
Hides beyond the horizon
I wait quiet
In the misty silence of morning
For that first glimpse
That first deepening of blue
Proclaiming the presence of
What is out there
Eternal motion onward
Known in the heart and memory
Though yet my eyes can’t see

Yet I can see the trees
Beckoning arms waving
A welcoming dance
Upon the breeze
Calling, “Come
Join us
Come greet the sun
It, too, waits just beyond
Those hazy clouds
To feed us with
Its joy-filled light
To colour our dress
Of leaf on leaf
In shades and hues
Of vibrating life”

I watch
In the silence of my room
As pen and mind try to capture
To set in words
The sense of waiting for
What the coming light
Will yet unfold before my eyes
A scene for memory to hold
In fragile beauty
Within my heart
As I face new tomorrows
Unknown yet glimpsed
In moments past
Held in sacred hope
Within my spirit
As real and vibrant as waves
Rolling onward
Beyond the haze


Outside my Window
29 May, 2000

Outside my window
Wind whipped branches dance
Weaving arms, “Come hither join
This song of sun
and cooling breeze.”
The birds call
Echoes of wordless
Welcome woven in the steps
Of springs green leaves
My heart replies
In sun swept words
And longing looks
Drawing my fingers to dance
Their own choreography of words
Upon these keys
My feet tap rhythm
Weaving steps toward my comfy shoes
To leave the bounds
Of four strong walls
To lift my eyes
In standing ovation
For the dance of bird and tree
Moving to the cadence of the sun
Played delicately on the
Many strings plucked joyfully
By the welcoming breeze
My feet walk steady
Sedated steps into my day
While in my heart
I dance
In answer to the resonance
Of nature’s litany


in this island of time
19 November 2000

in this moment,
there is silence
softly muffled
in the pulsing pool of
life’s blood flowing
through the circuits of my body
head pillowed
on the buoyancy
of waves rocking me
in the cradle of my thoughts
my body floats
in quiet darkness
serenity my blanket
splashing in warm ripples
against my feathered skin
indistinctly shaped
in softened edges
of living quiet
no noises in my head
no wanton lovers caressing
touches calling me to rise
from my quiet into ecstasy
no clarion call
“to arms” in the battles of living
no monsters from the past
gnawing at my soul
no dreams for tomorrow
calling me to rise
in this moment,
there is silence
an island of peace,
a refuge of tranquility
within the living
of my life.


15 0cotber, 2000

the wild geese startle me
their raucous clamour
piercing the inward stillness
of reflection
calling me out
of my silent room
into the world of clouded skies
and bare branches

icy pavement
translates the cold
through stockinged feet
into a tale of
languid summer’s ending
fading though autumn colour
until heralded by this liquid flight
comes a new beginning
the quiet still waiting of winter

tasting frost within the air
i clasp my arms around me
chilled cheeks and nose ignored
watching a sky dotted by
wavering lines of winged geese
silhouette’s moving onward
across the blue gray
of a new day’s sky

i wait held in arms
of companionable sound
until with their last faint cries
the geese fade once more
leaving the silence
of my waiting world
of quiet still winter
a time of resting before rebirth


Silhouettes of Promise
November 3, 2001

Sometimes we
Push ourselves beyond
And come undone
Trying to be more
Than we can be
In that moment
That hour
We view the light
And call it dark

Then moments kiss
Eternal hope
Reawakening from
Enchanted rest
Our souls
With flickers of hope
In the dark
Becoming light
Enhancing form within
The silhouettes of promise


June 27, 2003

she digs deep into
the bones of her life
Fossil memories
record what once was
creating the foundations for
todays lost in yesterdays
buried deep
so deep she
cannot reach and
touch whorls of stone
marking passages
of tide and sea
there on the landscape
of her soul
she does not surrender
to this tyranny
of past but digs on
chipping relentlessly at
barriers of stone
chisel in hand she pries away
a stubborn stone
until she is there
and with her eyes
she views the truth
of what once was knowing
it is not to be again
with brush and knife she pulls
the tiny fossil from its perch
and hangs it from her neck
the only memory
untarnished by the unforgiving
passage of years
she knows it for what it is
an end of dreams undreamed
beginning at the ending
she starts again.


December 24, 2004

These are the threads
We have to weave
The twisted fibres
Spun in the past
The colours fixed
Into the yarn
Cannot be undone
The new fibres of the present
Insufficient to weave
A life already lived
Until now

Time and healing
Unravels the old fabric
That’s loosened integrity
Its strength to hold
Its ability
To stop the drafts
Of loneliness
And misunderstanding
Still blowing in
From past memories
And misunderstandings
Unsaid words
Or human inability
To be all things
To those we love

Slowly with time and effort
The threads unpicked
Leave only enough
To thread warp yarns
Into the frame
Merging with new colours
Upon the loom
Of the present

A new pattern grows
Colours richer
In a stronger fabric
If we will
Keep the tension
Of weft threads
In the merging of
Our distinct colours
Designing a pattern
Of living
And loving



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