So long ago
sewing tiny pearl beads
around a gauzy net
to form a bridal halo
stitching dreams together.
Drops of crimson
from pricked fingers
drip upon the silk flower crown
white for purity
red for courage
blood for
hope.
.
.
.
Anniversary approaching. You can see the veil in question on an older post here.
Ponder the options
think for awhile
jot down the image
consider and smile.
Take steps, even small ones,
stay out of the holes,
and before you know it
you’ll reach your goal.
The words have been
manipulated, twisted, and set.
Now they fly.
.
.
.
Sent off a collection of 4 poems this week for the CBC Literary Awards, squeezing under the wire at the last minute. It’s a huge national competition, and I don’t have any expectation, but nothing ventured, nothing gained! The pieces must never have been published or performed, so they’re a secret. That was the hardest thing: having to write daily for the blog, and compose something distinct for the contest. It’ll be months before winners are announced, so don’t hold your breath. I’m not! 😉 (But feel free to send some positive vibes my way!)
Last night
I fell asleep planning
an ensemble:
beige, flowing garments
open shoes
bare skin, no socks.
Spring is here!
Celebrate!
I awoke
to see snowflakes filling the sky
giant two inch diameter
behemoth flakes
mocking my dreams of spring.
Wardrobe re-think.
Boots today.
Again.
Still.
.
She was young,
but she had a dream
to cut herself free
from the stigma of family
substance abuse,
poverty, and
hopelessness,
if only someone would give her scissors
and show her how to use them.
A teacher said,
“You can do it!”
So she applied for a training course,
wondering how she’d pay for the tool kit
or pay for the rent to live in another town.
“We’ll write letters!” said the teacher.
“It’ll work out!”
Community groups responded to her letters
and her impressive resume of volunteer activities
with cheques in hand.
“You’ve helped this community.
We want to help you achieve this dream.”
The billet said, “Would you work off
your room and board in chores?”
And suddenly the impossible
was happening.
Shining new scissors sliced her past away
and cut open hope
for her future.
.
.
.
True story. Apprenticeship programs offer kids real skills and credits for professional training and high school credit. Some times there are barriers for kids to take advantage of the opportunity, but where there is a will, there is a way. The school is there to help kids achieve their dreams, after all. Thanks to the service clubs who make a difference, quietly meeting needs in their communities: Lions, Rotary, Royal Canadian Legion, Elks, Kinsmen, Oddfellows, and the like. Today is a particularly good day in my world.
In Finland,
a single candle in the window
is the Christmas light.
In graveyards,
candles illuminate gravestones
through the dark winter days:
a haunting reminder
of life lights extinguished,
better than buried plastic flowers
in the moonlit snow.
Light dances like a living soul
in windows and on graves.
Single points of light,
simple festivity,
Christmas celebration
far away.
.
.
Missing my Finnish host families and friends tonight, but remembering them with a candle in my window.
Seven days
since you promised,
the grey cloak
over the hills
offers no warmth
for my wishful heart.
It is enough
that you fill the hollow places.
When you’re in your darkness,
the glistening of faith in you
can find the warmth you need
so what was empty
overflows with me.
The bravest thing you ever did
was open the door of your dark room
and invite in the light.
The bravest thing you ever did
was to believe someone could
hold you in the night.
The bravest thing you ever did
was embrace the possibility
that something might
The bravest thing you ever did
was to look through your window
and claim the sight
The bravest thing you ever did
was to climb through the window
into the light.
Sitting on a soap bubble
floating in sunshine
reflected glare on the surface
of my seat
blinds me.
I rise on
the iridescent
clarity
of the emptiness
that is my only
safety
from the
inevitable
bursting
fall
Shawn L. Bird 