The Veil of Holy Days

christmas morning

Early morning, December 25, 2014

Holy days, still moments, stand sacred
In thin veils spanning worlds.

tree shell

July 10, 2014

When I move inside the oak crater,
A shell left when this earth’s branches
Separated from roots; new forms born.
I’m mindful of a mountain of acorns
As monuments, like memories, living on.

This existence we cling to might
Be less precious than rose scent,

cactus rose
Than the reality of rainbows, and visits
Loved ones pay through the mind’s eye.
Let’s not close the gracious veil:
Missing, the well-travelled tear, sighs.
Vestiges of rose return with secrets,
Whispering mysteries, listen, draw near


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