#contemplativepoetry — Public Fediverse posts

Worry Wart

The troubles of this passing day
weigh heavy on my head,
until I join the hollow-eyed,
the weary walking dead;
I stumble through the crumbling streets
where nameless fears are bred,
consumed by temoral things
and this mortal dread.

O, that this wart of worry
might be lifted from my head,
this small, persistent torment
on which my fears are fed;
that I might cease rehearsing
each bitter word unsaid,
and stop imagining sorrows
still waiting up ahead.

O, let me quit resisting
the road where I am led,
and trust the ground beneath me
though shadows o'er me spread,
for life is more than trembling
before the things I dread—
perhaps the path I fear to walk
leads to trust instead.

August 8, 2015 (exp. 2026)

Stumbling Block

It seems I have always been stumbling, tripping over the unintended in a fog of wandering wonder.

The mist has been ever around me, my cloud by day. I am enveloped by mystery.

You do indeed love to surprise me, O God;

two girls find shiny stones in a fountain and their joy chases away the despair at not finding a loved one,

the hospitality of friends lightens the weight upon a heavy chest from a returning to what was and the traveler can breathe again into what will be,

a mother’s words and the night breeze dries a daughter’s tears and she can smile at the deep thrum of a bullfrog,

lovers lie for a moment in the morning and the frustrations of yesterday fade into the quiet beginnings of another day.

It is time then.

I rise up into the bone crackling morning, my body protesting, my spirit already stretching out along the places I will see.

Inside, I find I am ready for more stumbling.

July 29, 2022