Night Shadows

 

Night is that shadow 

without a moon; 

the sun has slipped 

over the horizon

to lands I cannot see. 

Even the sounds of 

the night are changed. 

Bird song is muted, 

Wind whispers around 

corners and down streets. 

Traffic avoids the rush 

and splash of the day.

Curtains pulled against 

the cold soften sounds

outside and in. The creaks 

of the building settling 

for the night tells me 

that I’m not the only 

one showing my age,

“It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.”

~ Stephen King, novelist

No Rush, No Order

There is no rush to healing, 

no order. What is healing!? 

is it a switch on the wall 

or inside my body that I, 

or someone, should turn on 

so that my crooked self is 

straight, so it fits my clothes, 

or so the teeny, tiny spot 

in my brain is fixed, but 

it is in my power to be 

respectful of the body and brain I have, 

and care for me the way I am today. 

When I need help, 

when my courage fails,

others are always there

 to steady me. Yet healing 

is always in my hands 

~ each minute of day 

at sunrise and sunset

and in the dark of night.

“Our sorrows and wounds are healed only 

when we touch them with compassion.”

~ Buddha

A Morning Hymn

I like Sundays.

In old memories. 

attitudes shifted for 

that Sunday moment. 

A feeling of more 

air to breathe. 

I’ve not been 

in a church

for many years, 

but the silence is 

a morning hymn.

I like Sundays.

“In the midst of the storm, your life boat appears. A psalm, 

a hymn, a word…calming the fiercest winds of the soul.”

~ Roderick l. Evans, author