Journey into Love: Courage

Courage calls me out to dare, to hope, believe there’s more out there.

It is a risk to leap against,

all past experience and my dread.

Yet, deep within my spirit breathes.

It is connected to a fire that lives.

It casts a light upon my dread and breaks the lies that keep me dead.


rising up to dance unchained,

I crush the broken hell of shame

and lift my head to eyes that live

and speak my name in ways that make me feel again.

Author – Bill Tidsbury


Journey into Love : Hope

The sweet embrace of hope is real. It lives within the arms of love.

I can not move

unless I’m held within the strength of arms so fierce.

The endless power of hope that springs, eternal in a sparkling wine.

It bubbles up!

It’s fragrance fills the dungeon caverns of my heart that’s torn.

It’s grip can crush whatever binds my soul in tortured form.

I rise upon love’s sweet caress

and know the future’s not a mess.

Hope transforms!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Life – has uncertainties

A sweet soul fights, her face is worn.

She hears of cancer and feels forlorn.

She is so poor, the cost is high,

and yet she still hopes to live, not die!

Her belly swells, it’s not a child.

The tumour grows and she needs more help.

The wait is hard as her soul cries out

for cash to pay and comfort in her trial.


A strong soul learns of cancer foul,

it grew within while career was styled.

An instant change when doctor’s words,

confirmed the fear with words so damned.

She fought with courage, she held to hope.

She had support, and doctors wise,

yet in the end her soul eloped.


The puzzle is strange, the mystery great.

We fight with all our strength and more.

Some have resources, others want,

yet, each they walk their journey on.

We hold their hands, we hope and pray

that they will live to greet each day.


One’s battle seems so strong and wise.

Another weeps, and fears to die.

The process shapes, each one unique.

We walk alone into the the deep,

and there find mystery’s speech.


It’s hard to watch, as we stand by.

The fight is in another’s hand.

We care , support and pray to see,

a friend revived, alive set free.


And when the joy becomes a feast.

We celebrate this newborn gift,

of life extended and breathe relief.


Yet others find the journey rough.

They too soon say it is enough.


So honour, love and then release.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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

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