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

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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

Broken dreams

Clashing turmoil – fleeing I seek to hide.

Nothing is certain. The echoes bounce and cry.

Mental confusion grows madly day by day.

Soundless arguments aiding my disarray.

 

In the roaring of mental disconnect,

There’s something deep that begins to lift and rise.

This shift straightens broken loops to clarity

and kisses with a friend’s quiet certainty.

 

Shards of crystal rain upon the fields,

as lies and fears fall scatter like the snow.

Sun’s rays melt the shapeless shards to liquid grace,

creating life for hope’s new planted shrubs.

 

Glowing beauty and fruitful bounty forms

as life takes hold of things once lost and gone.

Destiny flowers – vermillion in a sea of green-

a harvest promised, grown from broken dreams.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Still Entwined

The crash of pain as thief’s violent shock,

opens wide deep wounds from history’s womb.

The crashing wave looms over all that’s dear,

We brace in rage, fearing crushing loss.

Yet ache to rest in lost fairytale’s bliss.

 

The welcome warmth of a heartfelt hug

that connects my heart, giving life to hope.

Spontaneous moments when our spirits join,

I feel the flow from life’s gracious source,

so stand renewed within destiny’s course.

 

The crash of pain … The warmth of heart.

The open wounds …. The balm of love.

The wave that looms … The Spirit’s touch.

The rage we feel …. The flame of life.

 

We are bound together, in grief or joy.

We live connected in the maze of life.

We seek escape and rush to pain,

while holding fast to crumbling fame.

Yet while entwined, I can still be “me”,

to live authentic, transformed and so free.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

A moment shifts

Revelation –  awakens most unusually!

People swarm, seeking something new

as I wander with them blind and so afraid.

Then a moment  shifts my senses,

to explore a world I haven’t seen.

The marvel is, it entices me to fly!

I have stepped across a threshold

and find His whisper shifting my despair.

Now, electric is my present,

while I sense a tremble rising,

I muster up my courage

to leave the norms behind.

Stepping through I’m wakened by this lightening

that’s expansive and sublime,

opening possibility’s connection

to my destiny’s design.

I’m marvelling in the wonder

as my spirit meshes into Life.

I embrace the grace of heaven

as I dance with joy inside my head.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Unplanted roots

I dug a plant up with a  spade,

I made a hole, I marked a  grave.

The plant though whole is now forlorn.

It’s lost it’s place beneath the sun!

When planted deep – I saw its leaf.

A perfect form all green and bright.

I dug it up, and saw it’s source

Its roots where white yet bathed in dirt.

I sensed perfection of design.

I stood amazed – all parts complete!

I then had insight from Spirit’s brush,

the plant though whole was on death row!

We all have context, mark our space.

We sense our individual parts intact.

Yet still we wander dying dry,

not grasping that, my roots need place.

When I depend on life that flows,

from  sources deep yet veiled, unseen,

I draw my life up deep within

then bless with fruit, as I laugh and grin.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Play come calling

Play – comes calling, tickling hearts.

The joy that bubbles seems so free.

It leaps upon you like a fountain

spraying incandescence far and wide.

Then there’s quiet moment’s eddy,

full of pleasure warm and kind,

contemplating what will next be,

as sweet imagination’s glory shines.

Soon some lightening flashes forward,

action figures spring to life.

Heroes rise and then they splatter

in the shadows of adult life.

Grief contends with evil’s power,

twisting pain and bringing fear,

’til the gallant rise victorious,

in the war to end all strife.

Play is simply destiny calling!

It empowers hope to thrive.

When you see a child not playing,

something deep within has died.

So one role in life’s adventure,

is to stimulate more play!

When we live in child’s blessing,

we breathe life into each day.

Author – Bill Tidsbury