Balm that heals

Hate 

weaves wicked spells,

cloaking greed.

Swords 

thrust deep within,

rending hearts.

Rage,

a toxic brew,

shredding trust.

Pain

that dwells alone

kissing death.

 

Hope

lighting up the sky,

singing joy.

Balm,

breathes healing strength

in raw wounds.

Love,

energizing 

what was dead.

Peace

that holds our hearts,

sparking life.

 

Birth

that comes from two

finding love.

Art,

releasing magic

in mind’s eye.

Song

that soars with joy,

shifting soul.

Source

welling from beyond,

granting dreams.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Love became

I saw through foggy wisps a life so indistinct. It seemed to float – ethereal in the wind. Its substance wondered at and wordsmiths called it grand. Its form was never well-defined yet seemed unlimited and without end. It was the talk of many – but few had ever grasped – it laid outside the ken of those controlling laughs. And then it died – was suffocated in the mist when something changed – and fear became so real.

I felt from deep within a shock. A life so indistinct had risen in the twist of some eternal fractured song. It wasn’t new, yet seemed as if untold, as spirit offered up a life from depths I thought had grown cold. A substance seemed to coalesce in fears great chill, and liquid fire as if burning, opened up a song to break the spell which laced my dreams in chain’s so painful bite. And something changed – love became my friend.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

I Sing

When I sense what I do not know approaching from shores left long ago, I stop and ponder what was lost that seeks my face so hazy through these foggy ways, as indistinct, a new day dawning  paints the skies with glory in the hope of what could newly be the fresh beginning of my destiny.

To spend a lifetime bound by someone else’s fears, cannot erase the longing sure of hope’s adventure that resides deep down with the soul – an echo of a vibrant ring that crashes loud upon the casement of all doors and leaks the glorious light of incandescent possibility.

So, take a risk and open doors that once defined the fortress of that which kept the terrors of the night at bay.  Nervous energy abounds as doors are opened up to sound and light cascades and then begins to play upon the textures of long forgotten dreams that awaken to the songs of day.

The possible is never clear, it forms a chaos in the endless play of waves and seems to flow in glorious disarray around what, I once thought so sure. Yet, as I move and learn the dance of stepping into light with hope and weave the dance of life upon the fabric of my dreams – I sing.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Ancient fires slowly die

Empty, the country is trackless and wide. No indications of where to go or hide. Being, in its grace, gently nudges me to sit, be still. I gaze out at the foothills, I see the vultures soaring high, I sense the breezes wafting as this humid heat stirs slowly while a volcano quietly steams as ancient fires slowly die. The country is quite hazy and many slide away from hope as dry eyes cease to cry. Rage builds so slowly. Injustice grinds so fine. The journey becomes wearying and the joints ache with time, the ponderous weight of yesterday, seems impossible to remove. What happens in the future, will come around again from what’s before. The dreams of leaps that reach up to the moon, seem futile when there’s no meat on the spoon. The crying children fight each day for what they steal in fear. The fathers hang their heads in shame and drown their pain or snooze. The world is in an awful mess, the need breaks all who seek amends.  Still there is always someone fresh to offer change and hope to get redress.

Yet in the depths of human grief there still seems echoes of a dream. The hope that really some fine day, a saviour will again step in. We say the Saviour has already been. That hope can find its way through Spirit’s wine. Many drink with eyes all bright, but still the night’s not made  to be alright. The mystery is yet unborn, of how a child will form a man who one day will be able to rule this land. And yet I walk the land, because belief is real, that just at finger tip sits the offering of a heart that simply fills what no one else can heal. The echo of the offering is plain upon the wind. And yet the very words are faint and I can’t take it in. I stumble over logic and the hints from others lips yet still the melody rolls on while so few sing the song. The pieces do not fall in line, the hearts can’t seem to wake. The hurting hearts can only long for what is yet to be. There’s flashes of reality, that crash upon the door. But still the lock seems hard to break and must still wait some more. Yet, hints keep cropping up, in fragrances and dreams, that something slowly wakens that blossoms in this land.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Freshness breathes

Feeling alone,

as the world crushes hope.

Power comes to destroy not protect.

Harsh lessons are learned in grief.

Easy lessons only appear in fantasies!

Distrust creates hollow castles

which deny heart’s need for caress.

A poor woman’s world becomes a desert.

 

Gentleness brushes wilted life.

Fear stirs as tenderness awakens dreams.

Castle walls can’t exclude celestial breezes.

Fragrance on the wind invades desolate spaces.

Joy’s remembered wine is sipped afresh

as heart palpitations release nervous energy.

Peaceful garden life invades desolate spaces

and freshness breathes with hope’s delight again.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Hope has wings

Hope has wings-

yet cannot fly,

when harm clips feathers

grounding flight.

 

A child yearns,

yet unaware

that what is longed for

never was.

 

A mother dreams,

still waiting for

the man who’s with her

to be true.

 

A son seethes,

while crying in shame.

He can’t protect mom

when he’s young.

 

A daughter weeps.

Innocence died

when trust was shattered.

She’s alone.

 

A man dies.

Trapped by his shame.

He can’t forgive self’s

tortured soul.

 

Love still breathes.

Each taste ignites

a spark that opens

life again.

 

Hope has wings.

It flew again,

When love healed pinions

and soul soared!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Tug of war

Letting go, brings tug-of-war.

I step through doors and see far shores.

I feel the tug of hope’s caress

and feel dream’s kiss as if its lace.

Yet, when its time to step away,

something hidden wakes dismay.

My plan, as framed, has no restraints-

until my hand grasps exit’s door!

As I shift, my ties come clear,

and as they loose and kiss good-bye,

memory surges with feeling’s swell.

What’s gained entangles with the cost!

Now things are real – the fine print spelt.

I see before a vista rare,

and in my soul I feel the break,

with those whose roots can’t be set free,

and have no wish to move along,

but stay content, yet, wishing me

to stay and simply be with them –

and not take flight with mystery.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

I am free

I lift my head, a new day spawns!

The light creeps in, with breeze kissed dawn,

a fly sweeps by, as muscles stretch arresting day.

I listen, this quiet morn asks me to begin – again!

My rest was sweet, my breath inhales the warm sunshine,

and I know that I have hope. Hope that stays afloat!

The dregs of dream’s faint songs just drift away.

Mind is bright – Spirit’s joy displaces all that’s grey.

My body shifts to swing my feet to feel the tile,

then splash my face and enjoy my shower.

My tummy rumbles sensing gain

from some sweet fresh fried plantain!

The water boils, the tea is fresh, my toast is sweet,

and I settle back to breathe, inhaling life – it really is a treat!

To be; to see; to know that I am free.

I often say – how can it be?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Presence

Presence is a tangible reality that’s hard to put into words. It’s lack is noteworthy – the vacuum of a space unfilled – a darkness sucking me in, dragging emotions and eye contact into a void. A loss that must be avoided at all costs – and so the habit grows to run!!

Yet You come –

Your felt presence permeates a space – so quietly- so unnoticed until awareness can no longer deny that cold distance has left the room and now something sparkles. It’s winsome, it’s vital and it comes asking permission to be with me!! It is not invasive yet is ubiquitous!

Presence, once invited grows! It expands to fill any offered space – not violently but with subtle delight – as a fragrance fills a room. Once invited in, presence has eyes! The awareness grows – not just of touch and smell but of sight – a sight that takes me beyond the known and opens heaven in the wonder of fires flow.

Eyes that see, eyes that know, eyes that weep and eyes that open love’s joy. Yet, in the sizzle of joy there grows a sweeping peace that knows no end and carries fullness beyond the stars. Limits shatter as presence joins with this one spirit’s song and flings it past eternity to make an anthem that can never end yet sings me to sleep in hope’s fulfilling dream.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Hope thrives

Need – it pulses in her eyes.

A child peering up – hoping;

wishing for what she can’t perceive.

She’s pleading – will I choose to see?

Big people – deeply feel their need.

Their eyes cry, while hiding dark despair.

It would be too risky to bare all the broken dreams in this dusty air!

Yet, behind the eyes, comes a smile.

It is not big, yet still beguiles.

as child  welcomes presence.

Peace spawns grace even as I brush dirty hair,

transforming dust into hope’s delight.

Waiting is easy when trust shares its home with love.

Need becomes the door way to life –

when betrayal dies – Hope thrives!

Bravery kissed by laughter’s joy

floods the spirit as destiny’s wings unfurl.

Author  – Bill Tidsbury