Breathe with me

Courage – so needed when I need encouragement.

Hope – that lies so quiet on the floor.

Death it seems more bright than light,

and yet the fear it burns a hole.

 

Why, do questions seem to choke?

How could silence reign amidst such vicious scores?

When will all these haunting sighs,

be choked so I no longer cry?

 

Life it winks so feebly.

Yet still my soul is called to mend.

The grace I need is some great heart,

to breathe with me

and ground me firm,

within the gift of who I am

and believe so I can be.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Two brothers

Two brothers playing, no toys in hand.

They create a world with simple élan!

They race with such fury, they roar with great force,

as the villains are vanquished,and they triumph and stand.

They haul their small boat, made of a bottle of soap,

as it crashes through waves of the grass and the sand.

They play all alone, cause their mother works hard.

So, when there’s a fall they sit with no comfort at all.

They’ve learned to be strong,  they’ve learned to be tough,

yet they play freely in a world that so rough.

 

There are great cultures, where falls are shut out,

yet, equally insisting that darkness should shout.

The walls are erected, and policemen will stand

at doors to guard and make sure things are grand.

Yet still in these bastions there lurks darker threats,

that rise from the hearts of young ones who’re bent.

Their hearts weep profusely while smiles shine brightly,

and anger burns deeply, over slights that were sent.

They’ve learned deep resentment, they’re lonely, forlorn;

their play is now virtual  though their real heart is torn.

 

Two brothers playing, their future in hand.

Who will break walls down and give them a hand.

Two cultures crying in so different ways,

yet steadily teaching young men they’re not grand.

There’s majesty’s potential when princes arise,

who live in the present yet leave legacy’s surprise.

What’s needed are great hearts that humbly breathe life,

and leave a sweet legacy that turns strife into life.

The world is awash in the hearts that could be,

if only boys learned, that life given, makes free!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Bushwhacking

Bushwhacking – A definition( http://www.freedictionary) – “To force one’s way through a forested or overgrown area where no path exists:” “Often on the verge of starvation, they bushwhacked through muskeg, forded ice-cold streams and rivers … determined to conquer a daunting land deemed impassable”“(Brenda Koller)

There is always a well travelled trail – a highway.

It goes somewhere “important”, popular or theoretically crucial.

If I see myself only through other’s eyes, I am driven to “assume” that areas with no trails are only waste places or impossibly inaccessible. We label them ”Here there be monsters” on the map of life!

Life is after all “only about” what our “culture” and our friends have chosen to praise and admire.

Or – is it?

If life is a process, and if my journey has anything at all to do with my own uniqueness, then, my path must at times appear like buswhacking!

This implies solitude, struggle, many unknowns and periods of being lost!

These aspects of life are not glamourized by many. In fact, they can be downright scary!

Yet, the vast majority of my life’s encounters with exceptional beauty, radical moments of self discovery and incredulous joy, have been off the beaten path.

The courage to step off the “chosen” path will always open the door to wonder, curiosity and discovery, if, I am not running in panicked flight ( Fear is a monster!).

When I choose this deviation from the comfortable, I meet my own uniqueness because my Creator has been waiting to meet me there!

Drink deep of the wine of being exceptional – step off the highway!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Child’s gift

One little smile,

charming and sweet,

shines from a girl.

coming to greet me.

Eyes while haunted

by life’s brutal mess,

still see with hope

and believe I’m the best.

A scampering motion,

and next she’s embraced,

by arms that receive her

with joy she’s released.

Contagious, infectious,

she lives with no shame.

She hasn’t yet learned

that she’s poor with no name.

Alive, still believing

in this day’s rich grace.

Enjoying the laughter

with mud on her face.

She twinkles with brilliance,

her heart so alive.

She’s blessing the world

with life from above.

Today I’ve received

a gift in my being

in the face of a child-

unbound, still believing!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Threads of beauty

In the tumult of the hectic, in the rawness of running cold, it can seem turmoil’s ceaseless pounding robs away life’s treasured gold.

I can sense the thread of beauty, flowing through the crashing waves; in these glimpses of perfection, I can grasp – I’m not a slave.

When alone the turmoil thickens, then I feel the need to roam.  When I feel your hand enfold me, it is then I find my home.

Learning quiet, as I’m racing, it’s never easy, always rough. Yet, through gentleness in wisdom,  I find a peace that is enough.

I am strong, yet also needy. I am made to rest in  you. I can reach up to the mountains when I’m energized anew.

Life can so so very fleeting. It’s the joys that make it fly. Yet these moments, when remembered, call me deep into your eyes.

How I see you and I see me, it all flows in harmony. When I settle into stillness,  I’m transformed by mystery.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Living still

Peace is a feeling

that rests in my gut.

Quiet is gentle

and never acts rough.

Stillness feels soothing

when tremor’s fear sears.

Rest is the trust

in a child’s sweet sigh.

 

Peace is a river

that gentles my heart.

Quiet is a mist

that blankets my sighs.

Stillness is a sea

that’s smooth as glass.

Rest is a well

that is crystal and sure.

 

Peace is eternal

and answers life’s call.

Quiet is the whisper

of the Father’s sweet hush.

Stillness is the comfort

of the Lover’s caress.

Rest is the answer

when the Spirit does bless.

Author – Bill Tidsbury