When Mommies Die...

 

Prayer is a universal hug! Hug Kara and Her family as they do life's hardest Hard!

When mommies die

It rends earth’s sky

With why and hurt

And sorrow’s tear

For oh, we know

No other who

Can take the place

Of mommy-dear

Life’s first love

After God, is she

Who cradles children

In her arms

And there her babies

Oft will flee

To still the tears

Of fear’s alarm

When mommies die

The world cries ‘why?’

Still, our words

Cannot explain

The heart of God

But this we know

His grace is greater

Than our pain

There are no answers

Only this;

That God is good

And He will keep

Close to his heart

With nail-scarred hands

The tally of

Those tears we weep

© Janet Martin

Also thinking of the family in our community(friends of one of my brother's and one of my sister's families) who said good-bye to 'mommy' just before Christmas...

This Thing Suspended in Mid-air...

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This Thing suspended in mid-air

Like canvas without shape or form

Where we spill our allotted share

Of love and laughter’s sorrow-storm

This thing upon which seasons slip

Yet none can see, in seamless tide

As generation-waves admit

Again, again how quick its ride

…this Thing that none can cup or keep

Or measure, save in days or years

As its rushes from deep to deep

Invisible, yet disappears

This Thing of utter gravity

Granted but once to human-race

Known to our reaching ways as Time

God gives and gives and calls it Grace

© Janet Martin

 Titus 2:11 - For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men,

How will we savor His grace today? Mine begins with taking the van to our mechanic.

Then After...

Then, after we’ve returned back into our chest again

That which was bared and pummeled and ripped wide with searing pain

And after we relented where we clenched white finger-tipped

The sorrow hinged to sorrow where weakness and honor dripped

After our hearts are nothing but a flesh and blood-veiled sconce

Then, it will carry, not their action but our response 

© Janet Martin

January Poem

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How raw the edges of your sigh

How blue your roving tune

Where dusk is always standing by

To drink the afternoon

How frigid is your brooding gaze

How feeble is your sun

A labyrinth of silver glaze

Dazzles your tempest, hon

How stormy are your promises

How lonesome is your song

The offspring of your happiness

Ice-cold upon the tongue

How welcoming your blazing hearth

How fine its company

How sanguine your sweet-spiraled mirth

Above a cup of tea

How long and slow the books you bring

How soft and deep the chair

How easy is the beckoning

Of one-more-page affair

How lovely is your stinging name

How pleasant is your poem

For January stokes the flame

That brings our loved ones home

© Janet Martin

There's no place like home on cold winter nights!

Gold Postcards

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The yard is like a gold postcard

Its edge awash with sash of sky

That holds the fence that holds the tree

Where morning’s cold blue shadows lie

The afternoon will soon attune

Time’s colors to her bowing form

But now, the yard, a gold postcard

Is etched upon dawn’s sweeping storm

How fair is morning’s virgin air

How lovely is this Gift we have

...its dark to light is far, far more

Than breath-ellipses to a grave

…and opportunity is free

Delivered by angel-express

On gold postcards to boulevards

And yards awash with Heaven-ness

© Janet Martin