I think it quite strange living here walled by this house
when I was wilder than now I lived in nature
stalking birds and pollen laden things
always my toes in sands or hot footed in summer.
I was in love with the sky, no matter the weather
in storms I hid beneath branching cedars
sleeping on mossy pillows, in the woods of my backyard.
I never gave much thought to houses then, I only went there
to sleep or eat and waited to leave again
waited for an inkling of sun to warm the cold grass
spent days climbing trees, red plums and cherries
I imagined that's how life would always be,
living outdoors under the sun or clouds
wet with rain, always picking flowers.

Dance swiftly, my briar rose,
for in autumns lament you shall not seek repose

Cry bitterly,  my willow tree,
for the silver haired maid is long lost at sea

Sing serenely, my morning stars,
for the poetic moon is no longer ours

*... Hear my whispers in the dark ...

It was a graveyard and overcast sky
and I sat with book and accordian in hand,
hearing the world with its screams
swallow up around me.
The people whom I had loved and lost,
Papa with his silver eyes
Mama her sharp tongue and tough love
Rudy whose hair the colour of lemons
and questioned why, the living and dead,
worlds apart, yet both did not have a choice.
I stood and screamed so that everything shook
the burning rubble and ash and dust
willing my words to bring it all back
but it did not come, and my breath rose in gasps.
Death had looked me in the eye and said,
“It’s not time yet.”
I would shut my eyes to the world
only decades later.
I will understand that there was hate and pain
there was sadness
but even more so, there was love and joy.
I will know that the people I loved had reason
to kiss goodbye
whether it was their own hurt
or saw it as a necessity,
but they were never truly gone from me
always somewhere nearby,
in the thick and thin
frail and worn
of times.
I would learn
to forgive Death that day.
I will understand that
and I will be hurt,
but I will be okay.

~

Not all deaths are sad.
Some, meant to ease their own pain,
Are called freedom.
While some,
Meant to ease the pain of others,
Are called love.

© BT

I
When the ant had told,
That December cold
Night, the grasshopper,
Who had spent his summer
Singing in the tree,
To go dance now that
He was hungry & free,
He didn’t show the hurt,
Because he was alert
To the pain
Of winter and language,
So he left the village.
II
When he, thirteen years
Later,
Came back as a baker
(Who worked in the day
And sang in the night)
He went to see the ant,
A blue guitar gift-wrapped -
In his hand.
© LazharBouazzi, TUNISIA

Let's us Live, even while slowly dying here on the earth.
Let us Love , even while we are slowly dying here friend.
For no matter what, we are all slowly dying in this life.
Because no one Lives forever, no not one person here.
So while we are slowly dying , let us allow God to use us.
To help those whom see no hope here on this barren planet.
That draws no hope, because they know not our God.
For only he can bring us true Hope while we are slowly dying.
So let our Life bear witness to the True Hope through Christ.
Let our Sorrow build within us a true Testimony of real Love.
The Love that is unconditional one without any strings attach.
Let our Actions speak much Louder than any of our words.

make this sorrow
this suffering
this pain
worth it.
tell me stars will be born
out of my darkness,
a spring from my winter,
wholeness from brokenness.
tell me
my bones have been broken
so that light finds a way through them.