Life With Horace

poetry & essays

sun turtle moonstones


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moonstones

countless shed
in rage and grief
for loss of life
and love’s escape
but know my friends
that tears
rejoin the earth
to fall again
as rain
and with these
moonstone drops
comes life renewed
a moment’s chance
to heal and wash
the stench of hate
into the sea
and pray
the only swords
we need are
gentle arcs
of green
sun turtle lines
of remnant tears
safe havens
for our memories

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a poem for a day that always brings the echoes of a loving grief. I send these words to join those voices raised to shout aloud their sadness in the face of tragedy.


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Doors through grief

I stand on the newer side
of grief, not knowing what
that opening will bring,
but trusting my intent, certain
that this journey must be made.
God help me there is still love,
a garment long worn thin.
I do have hope, the gift
of help, caring hands to clasp,
many loving words.
Mine only if I ask, and
swing this new door
wide to admit them.
Today new portents fly
the sky, great cloud wings
that form a goose.
A sign, a love borne gift
come from the past
to urge the leap of faith,
to go fly free.
It whispers trust your spirit,
it will guide you, trust
your strength it will not fail you.
A new door opens, hope is thrumming
and I step through.

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I truly think the goose-shaped cloud was my spirit guide the day I saw it.