Spit fire coming out
of her jaws.
She was angry
after all.
It was a scene
that the company
saw, it didn't matter
to her.
Her brew had been
cooking slowly
on the fire for quite
some time, something
she just didn't forget.
And forgive, forget it.
Seems to be a foreign
word to her, forgive.
Her brew was heating
up and the other part
of her brew would
not let up.
When a pinch of that
was added, it was all
it took for the heated
combustion to explode.
All over the place...
on the walls, in the corners,
on the floors.
After that part left
the stench of the explosion
still lingered,
she refused to clean it up
so to remind her of what
a horrid pinch that was added
that day, with the already
tails and whispers in her brew.
Never was good for eating
just for keeping and
she kept it, like she has
kept other brews,
left in the basement
crowding up the space
just to remind her.
Only those she favored are kept
behind a secret door,
no one allowed there
but her and a few others.

I look for something more
when He's knocking at my door.

Grace

Around me, in a smile, in a face
sometimes in an embrace.
Or a song, I sing, maybe a prayer
I breath

Not Grace but Grace

No one looks, nor includes me
I feel alone, then lonely.
I question wildly why?
I want to ask questions, reason
and finally understand but
I can't. It's cold,
I am alone.

I look for something more
when He's knocking at my door.

Grace

Calling to my heart
when faces leave me
and voices silence and the
boxes are empty, calling
to my heart to a place
far apart.

Home, calls me to His heart
His smile, His arms, His face,
His Home,

Grace.

Allison Ashton ©

CALL OUT to the Eagle

The eagle spots

chains mourning

a whisper

a path, driven by

weak exchange

dragons perched

to devour the precious

a will 

stuck in a callous cage

on exhibit 

the trophy for the dragon

remembering there

is always light

in an unknown place

giving faith in the non-seeing

prison only illusion

faith solution

Stony yet soft.
A two-edged sword.
Giving, taking.
Man's relentless disease
infiltrates the land
and swept into the creek,
leaving behind secrets,
tales, laughter, crying, pain
hidden beneath the creeks mud
Vomiting up stench
from years before
when the land was walked.
And w/o warning a
precious soul is tossed
onto the creeks stream.
Why?
We question the gentle
creek turned to rage and
relentlessly removing, destroying
all in it's path and a precious soul.
A sacrifice, a forgotten respect,
from years before waiting??
And we question.

A garden I planted one day,
full of flowers in colors arrayed.
But, as the hours went by
I wondered when these
would rise?

Impatient, I dug them up
and said,
"why have you not grown?"

Then, I planted again
patience was not in my hand.
The hours went by and
I began to sigh
when these would rise.

Impatient, I dug them up
and said, "when, when, when
do your begin?"

But, what I failed to see
in the deep darkness
of the earth, God's quiet working
would soon give birth.

And I held my hands
folding them in His plan.
His timing not mine,
His will, not mine.

Allison Ashton©

Let go

and glide
down the happy
tunnel
of healing

forgive

The heavy coat

of care, weighs

down to the
cellular level,

exhausted.

It breaks down the
fibers of health

that holds
now folds
bending

from
carrying too many
burdens
ours
others.

Resistance leaves

and an open door
for a foreigner to enter
at the cellular level.

Let go

and glide
down the happy
tunnel
of healing

forgive the unforgivable

free them from the
prison state

healing at
the cellular level.

Allison Ashton©

A String Pull Away

Do we cry a thousand tears

or die a thousand deaths?

Do we live in shadows

and bury our hearts in sand?

Do we control the heart that beats

or the blood that rushes through?

Do we live in fiction worlds

that only a mass of fiber conceives?

and forget a bigger world

that longs for our eyes to see?

The blinds are only a string pull away.

Allison Ashton©