Intangible Winnowing...

Sometimes I feel its blue pour through

The cracks that let the sunlight in

And all along the corridor of middle day

The rain drops grin

Sometimes the mosaic of moments

Bleeds and blurs; fall, winter, spring

And summer like a kaleidoscope of color, swirls

And twirls and spins

Sometimes the emptiness of want

Is filled with the intangible

Awareness that nothing stays long, save

Consequence infallible

Sometimes, it is enough to reel

Beneath the surreal winnowing

Of sand within the hour-glass; we pass but once

This way of things

© Janet Martin

In His Hands...

We are in His hands

No need for us to hold

The bleeding weight of shifting sands

For God is in control

We are in His hands

In spite of storm-tossed grief

The wind and waves heed His command

‘Lord, help mine unbelief’

We are in His hands

No sweeter peace can be

Than to entrust to Him the strands

Weaving eternity

We are in His hands

Faith, hope and love abide

Within the keep of He who stands

Within life’s tempest-tide

We are in His hands

No need for us to know

The bleeding way of shifting sands

God will not let us go

© Janet Martin

He said to them, "Why are you afraid, you men of little faith?" Then He got up and rebuked the winds and the sea, and it became perfectly calm. The men were amazed, and said, "What kind of a man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?" Matt. 8:26-27

And Jesus said to him, "'If You can?' All things are possible to him who believes." Immediately the boy's father cried out and said, "I do believe; help my unbelief." When Jesus saw that a crowd was rapidly gathering, He rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, "You deaf and mute spirit, I command you, come out of him and do not enter him again."…Mark 9:23-25

For All Those Things We Cannot Change

For all those things we cannot change

And all those things we do not know

For facts than none can rearrange

Of holding near or letting go

For high and low and in between

For faith and hope to cheer this day

For peace in spite of the unseen

We can do but one thing; we pray 

...and we pray, not to gods we see

Of sticks and stones or bricks and clay

We pray to He who tends the tree

And breaks the dark to light the day

We pray to He who sees beneath

The veil of flesh from heaven's throne

No frantic last resort is He

Who understands our wordless groan

No plea too great, no cry too small
This God who bends the wind, cups seas
Hears each sincere and selfless call
In Him there are no 'least of these'
So, for those things so hard to bear
Or understand, God grant that we
Within the solace of a prayer
May trust the answers, Lord, to Thee

© Janet Martin

Aren't you glad we can 'carry everything to God in prayer'?

Out There...

Out there where summer fell like autumn’s harvest-ready fruit

And twilight tolls, lonesome bell-tone rolling through stricken wood

Thought is a tower window overlooking year-swept plains

The air soul-sweet and heavy wrapped in purple autumn rains

Out there where we too once inhaled the scent of darling dreams

And hours were steel stumbling blocks impeding moment-streams

We leaped carefree, oblivious to chiseled undertows

Intent upon the stepping-stones strung where tomorrow glows

Out there where we marveled at seasons spilling in full bloom

We stooped to collect fragments free-falling from heaven’s loom

Then, suddenly we paused, startled by serenades of yore  

Discovery is double-edged and slices to the core

Out there where once we stumbled in love’s ever- learning shroud

When we became acquainted with the ‘nevers’ we avowed

Now a new generation disembarks on virgin fell

Out there where summer falls and calls new dreamers to its swell   

© Janet Martin

Full-smitten

He is old-fashioned;

Crème Brulee charmer

Seducing hearts

While he robs us of summer

Dipping each spire

In fire and bronze

While we romanticize

He covers lawns

With swindled whispers

And dwindling of dreams

We collect pictures

Of leaf-laden streams

Tasting all things apple

And pumpkin and spice

… he steals away summer

While we murmur 'nice'

Intoxicated by

Wood-smoke on dusk-dark

Or pungent, pressed leaves

As we walk through the park

Trying to ignore

That inner tugging roar

Where summer-sighs barter

And autumn-bards war

And nature turns drowsy

As Apollo broods

An old-fashioned charmer

Dismantling the woods

Etching gaunt outlines

Against haunting knell

As we wade full-smitten

Through a sea of farewell

© Janet Martin

That's how it felt yesterday while I was out walking...fully, so fully in love with a charming, old-fashioned swindler drowning daylight in dusk, sauntering away with another 'gone forever' tucked neatly in his pocket.