Why?

Why in a world of so much grace -does desperation thrive?

When men can fresh design some human gene, “one small child” abounds across the globe, still caught in suffering’s bloody hate.

Billions in gold sit in bank’s deep holds, guarded darkly from any so bold to ask for food as babies cry.

Creative genius works to frame some new design to save the world, yet only those with cold hard cash are taken in within the fold.

Why in a world where many seek to protect mother earth from harm and filth, we find her children dying beneath the crush of arms bought from men whose simple vice is making gain?

Innocence is lost when a child seeks firewood outside a camp, while strong men guard with arms the post that politics says defends the weak.

Children sweat and chemicals burn while things extracted grant others multiplayer reality to fight boredom’s sorrow.

Mothers cry and fathers rage as one small child burns with heat, still waiting for the tender grace of one small dose of medicine – out of reach of poverty’s cage.

Why in a world where freedom lives and movement is guaranteed amongst a people strong and brave, do millions tread wrapped up in chains bound into servitude and violence’s pain?

A child dreams of living well, within a home with roof and chair, a bed with one simplistic cover – safety and peace that lasts all night!

A young girl dreams of a doctor’s voice guiding her as she learns to give the gift of life to others dear who wait for hope and healing hands.

A young teen dreams of discovery’s awe, as hope is opened for this earth’s redemption, while all around the tentacles of vice removes the dream and injects a shame.

Why, when so many can see the pain, do systems grind fine the ones who resist the lies?

Students stir awake and cry injustice, yet quickly lose their voice as promotion woos them sweetly.

Idealists convene to plan and scheme and then they silently diffuse their cries as we rationalize that people trapped in prisons hate, have only themselves to blame.

Living calls for action until I’m swamped by distraction’s fragrance that sings a dream that never grants discomfort.

Why?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Small things

Geckos – hiding at my door!

Waiting for my opening door to say ‘Come in!”

Chirping – larger sound than life.

Gecko’s unity – they tolerate me in “their” home.

 

Ants – they seem to migrate!

First invisible and then in armies round some crumb.

Motion – it’s so erratic!

They move half-crazed with no apparent destiny in mind.

 

Lizards – they flaunt their right to space!

With first a stare and then a bob, that says you’re peons ‘neath my gaze.

Fluid – they move like lightening!

You’d think that rockets propelled them from their resting place.

 

Small things – occupying space!

Each one unique yet always shifting life when they’re embraced.

Distractions – can be seen as blessings.

Beings just need reason to live humbly sharing space.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Season’s change

Heat, it hits you like a wave, and so I seek the shadows. I feel the easing of the sun, as from day to night I seem to run. Yet, shadows cling to trees and shrubs, and soon I must embrace the oven’s dare as cities seem to shatter trees and barren black top breeds.

Cold, it wraps me in its hands that burn. I shield myself in wool and fleece, as I step within its white embrace. It brings the shivers out to play and scares my toes as frosty needles pierce! I plough through crystals glowing bright, and see the fire in the sky yet sadly heat has taken flight!

Seasons flow and then recede. This flux excites creation’s candour. Transitions bring encounters fresh, where once again I shift and rest. Then, bright green growth stirs up my heart. I soar alive in passion’s heat, then slowly watch it freeze in winters sleep.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Driving me

So many things can drive me!

Life is framed by choices made. Yet so often, the instant course corrections that meander through my day, occur without my conscious say! I had intended to grab a coffee but as I go, I meet a friend! We put our heads together and a tangent frames my day!

Now, what occurs behind my eyes, when in those moments I must choose, to stay within the plans I’d made, or shift and spend my time with you! It is within those swirling depths, that  impulse moves, or, shifts and lurks. What do I value? Am I truly free? Or, is a beast alive inside of me?

The pressures that do drive me, I am learning now to see. They often do surprise me with demands that are severe! If I am living unaware, they quickly overwhelm my sensibilities and I am moved to act by relics left behind by previous storms and eventualities. I then am left with ponderings in the middle of the night; regarding the many sorrows that partnered with my precious life this day.

So again I wake and make a firm resolve.  I want to hear Spirit’s whisper, that reminds me of fresh delight. I must remind my heart to pause upon this precipice of choice! This presence speaks a freedom for me from those dark masters in my night. I’m open once again – curious, eager – to dance within the storm and not simply run in anguish; driven to be forlorn.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Any sense of you

When we live within what’s comfort,

When my normal looms large and strong,

That is when I most likely lose,

any sense of you at all.

 

When I see you acting strangely,

I can quickly then conclude,

That is why I’m so much better

than you, the one whose plans are loose!

 

When I am struggling with things beyond me,

when I need fresh glimpses in my muse,

Then I am bereft of comfort,

As I stumble blind – confused.

 

It is your hand that brushes by me,

breaks into my thoughts and fear.

You are different, so see in colour,

while black and white just brings me grey.

 

It hurts my heart to need another,

I am scared and fear to trust.

When I open and face your beauty,

I find strength in your difference.

 

So to chose each day’s discomfort,

bridging difference in the storm.

As I rest in hope believing,

you’re my complement reborn.

Author – Bill Tidsbury