I cradled me and looked after my being
remembered Bible stories
Jesus healing sick souls
once mine.

I was so tempted
felt emotions that hummed.
I wanted to taste the moment
smell the scent
smother the lion in all who pursued me.

I touched the moon,
and then I slept there.
I thought I heard you singing.
It was way past midnight,
but I still decided to wait,
grant you entrance into my images of rain
and memories of storms.

I searched for a compass held inside my pocket,
that's where I keep my treasures.
I dropped out reams of paper first
poetry carefully written
and there
between the folds
tightly clad
my compass
my moral measuring tool.
I held it to the light
yet
could not decipher the rainbows
nor the thunder.

Tiny angels sing
I heard them in the colors
I held one in my hand as she was weeping.

I am that golden child she breathed
I am the smoke beyond the river
I am the token of the dragon
the dew
and the lace
that lines the trees
I am the unspoken poem.

Grace
I hold its measures
set music to my dancing
I am the figure that makes a shadow
behind a blinded curtain.

Beyond this day
and far off into the distance
I think I see her treasure.
I released her
set her on her way to finding answers
and moons to sleep on.

I thought all
written about it
then picked up my pencils and left.

I cradled me and looked after my being
remembered Bible stories
Jesus healing sick souls
once mine.



Source by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

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