Hope’s grace

A woman attacked alone in the dark,

A robber assails with knife and the shock.

The fear that leaped up to devour and consume,

now feeds in a frenzy in a heart torn by gloom.

She sits and is broken – her face stitched and torn.

Her heart is so empty – she sits all alone,

The health care is broken, her tendons are cut.

She needs hearts that bear life and help her to trust.

 

Grace is so so willing to reach and to weep.

It takes just one action so eyes can light up.

A presence envelopes as a hand reaches out.

A heart that is gentle, stills death’s hateful shout.

Moments are precious, when fear meets with love,

it’s gentle yet present, and halts frenzy’s shove.

When Spirit caresses and pours helping balm,

on wounds that are ragged and torn by much harm.

 

Hope is the answer! It rises above.

It infiltrates slowly, and awakens the dove.

The battle is fiercest when fear has to flee.

Yet when it is vanquished, hope’s grace sings to me.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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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

Wisdom’s grace

Wisdom’s grace is missed with ease,

when I listen to fancy’s breeze.

The sweet caress of easy ways,

promises hope, then leaves me dazed.

 

A trap is found in history’s logic

passed down for years as if its tonic.

It blocks the heart that feeds on fears,

and leaves my present in arrears.

 

Wisdom’s grace comes in with freedom.

It gently kisses, creates anew.

Wisdom’s quiet ways come singing,

dancing smoothly with identity’s “being”.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Small Tendrils

I am always taken by surprise by the effect that ambient social atmosphere’s have on me.

They impact me more than I realize. Usually it begins very subtly.

Small tendrils seem to seep into my experience.

My emotions begin to shift in subtle ways.

Little thoughts seem to intrude upon my day.

Innocuous promptings seem to shift my perceptions to align with that which dominates.

Invariably,

what was unconscious becomes conscious

– when my dislocation from my normal anchors, leaves me adrift.

I awaken in shock, not quite aware of what set me loose and drifting.

 

If I stay within a “needy” mindset, I find my perceptions only generate more confusion.

However,

when I choose to process my realities within a spiritual dimension,

I find the elements that have shifted me, standing out in stark contrast to the things I hold dear.

These are the things that release my identity and freedom.

I choose again to reaffirm that which grants me grace

and

find the tendrils die off as I rise once again  – with clarity.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Eyes so bright

Eyes that see, eyes that weep, the colours vary widely.

The tears that fall will always flow with such great clarity!

Eyes moving blindly, eyes seeing nothing, wander across the globe.

Sorrow and hardship come together, stealing away the soul.

Eyes that shine. Eyes so bright. They shine inside my soul.

The wonder of the brilliant touch of sight that makes me whole.

Eyes that see me, as they brush me, seeming just out of sight.

Spirit’s vision creating history, while darkness invades below.

Eyes, they charm me, eyes that catch me, always by my side;

the grace of living well connected, within the realm of love.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Contagious vitality

Joy that springs

and dance that flings-

this radiance of a heart that lives

aflame!

Quiet whispers

that speak of grace.

Sparks lighting up the depths-

as fireflies!

Eyes that twinkle.

Hidden sparkles

reaching past infinity –

”Being” is found!!

Vibrant and alive,

the colours blossom,

the laughter soars-

as live is lived!

Holding hands-

heads thrown back.

Contagious vitality

in tranquility.

Author – Bill Tidsbury