below photo credit; Victoria Martin
The passage to the past is strewn
With many a common afternoon
The melodies that echoes play
Composed on bars of day-to-day
As seasons spill the ilk of hymns
Where beauty with the broken brims
As hurt and hope of high and low
Composes from wonder and woe
The words that learn to be more kind
Where awe and angst are intertwined
Composing haunting harmonies
Like rain that falls through August trees
Where leaves like large, lush platters splay
But cannot hold the silver lay
That drips and slips into the earth
The tomb of death, the womb of birth
While we stand on its teeming sod
And contemplate the ways of God
That none can thwart or circumvent
As we escort with wild lament
The mercy that flows faithfully
To the plain likes of you and me
Where opening to curtain close
Can’t help but tenderly compose
A humble hymn of gratitude
For many an afternoon, soft-strewed
As moments so casually cast
Compose the passage to the past
Where none can hold for long the part
That writes the song that tunes the heart
That pray, before its anthems fade
We heard the music as it played
© Janet Martin
So disappointed this pic blurred.
I handed Jim the camera while I was doing dishes after Melissa's birthday supper on Saturday
before we drove her back to the city. He isn't up to all the tricks of my only-half-working camera...
but I treasure this one all the same of the girls hanging out on the porch laughing and talking and talking and talking
Makes the moment we are in feel kinda sacred, doesn't it?!!
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight, O LORD, my rock and my Redeemer.
Psalm 19:14
Even though blurred, the photo is still quite lovely. It has a sort of ethereal feel to it.
ReplyDeleteInteresting that you are mulling past and present sharing our future. Earlier this morning I was some words by T.S. Eliot, lines from Burnt Norton:
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
...
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards a door we did not open
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind. ...
I don't know why, but those last lines echo in my mind every time I hear them.
I loved the photo of that little fellow eating his cob of corn.
And he's very colour coordinated with his outfit and blue glasses. :)
Enjoyed my visit, Janet. Wishing you a beautiful day.
Brenda xo
I love the lines you shared<3 You just reminded me that there is a lot to look forward to when the summer-gardening and gathering is done for another season!I was feeling a little sad this morning as I realized August is drawing to a close so quickly and as I mulled over so many 'ordinary' afternoons this poem started taking shape and sadness turned to gladness<3 I am loving the blurred photo in a new light;-)
ReplyDeletethank-you Brenda for always bringing beauty when you visit and leaving some behind when you leave!
I love the photo as it is! Beautiful young ladies.
ReplyDeleteAs such beautiful words again, Janet. Thank you for the poem.
thank-you Sasha. I love those beautiful, young ladies like little else in this world! except for a few fellows of course;-)<3
ReplyDeleteHugs and prayers for you and yours.