ride the pain to
the center of your heart
where Wisdom lives
where Loves our Savior
ride the pain
into your soul’s core
where Wisdom grows
and sings the hymn
of your life eternal
ride the pain
to your hymn of Life
and let your heart and soul
float in God’s precious blood
so freely given
Ask and you shall be given
Seek and you shall be found
ride the pain
as Sacrifice for errors
carried by your heart
in humble surrender


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Hamlet, sharpen your sword of trust, for Macbeth is surely waiting.

The specter of ‘Civil war’ stalks the land and the ghosts of senseless violence, so long docile, have come to hollow-eyed attention.

Our cauldron was filled with innocence, as the ever-thirsty succubi require, the glory of war is being shaken, not stirred and the betrayal will be served as quick and cold as steel.

#chefskiss

they call it gloom;
that room across
the corridor
between
you
and doom

that feeling
of despair
the damp air of
musty fumes
and rusty hues
of care, where
feelings there
dare to never
ever bloom

you know it needed something
but you don't realize it
until months later...

if it had
had a dog and a child

it would be perfect...

"I picked up Bella
our Maltese
and took little Johnny
by his tiny hand

as the ambulance drove off."

a tear dropped
from the face of despair
and wove it’s way down
it’s entangled hair
weaving through waves
of dry dead strands
it untangled the knots
the braids and the bands
sliding ever so slowly
soothing out like oil
every curve and curl
of every anxious coil
straightening the stress
as it falls to the ground
shaking your head off the mess
let your hair hang down

Sister
         There's
                     A
                      Twister
                                   Heading
                                                 Our
                                                       Way
                                               Avoid
                                               I
                                      Must
                               This
                        Gust
                    Of
            Dust
    Let's
Be
   On
       Our
             Way

daughter of Icarus
searching for a distant light
or maybe you've heard
the distant voice
of Harry Crosby

his Black Sun
calling you
into the Minotaur's labyrinth
on a long
lonely
night

waxen heart
wings on fire
she meets her connection
at Chik- fel- A

cross that line
past the edge

how high can you fly
and never reach the sky?

Embalmed skin -
seemingly made anew,
yet pocked with sores…
from a life past.

The then waylaid heart
needed only whisper…

And long was the walk
through the cursed labyrinth
of sharp worldly things.

We are reflections,
mirroring each other's souls.
Connected as one.