Weeping

Desperation,

the sound of a woman

weeping,

caught between hunger

and the fear of what comes.

When poverty chokes

and there is no hope-

who do you turn to

for help that ends pain?

 

Choices,

I’m sleeping

with someone who grants food

to my little baby,

and shelter from rain.

When love is a phantom

and pain is my friend,

how can I dream

of innocence so clean?

 

Grasping,

I’m reaching to touch.

Feeling,

even one ounce of love.

Haunted, thirst is profound.

Why can’t you see?

Why won’t you help?

Why does my role play

not reach to your heart?

 

Peace,

shares my weeping.

Embrace,

wraps my heart.

Presence breathes – “I belong”.

Moments so precious,

seem easily lost.

Why can’t the world just stop?

 

Change,

comes with longing.

Life,

breathes in grace

as I shift how I see.

What keeps me hoping?

How will I laugh?

When will my spirit

sense home is my friend?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Kindergarten’s hope in a broken world

Angry boy,

running wild,

hardly knowing what it means

to be loved!

 

Little boy,

lashing out,

always guarding his small self

from others.

 

Quiet girl,

colouring,

little hand creating art

carefully!

 

Teacher,

receiving

hugs of love with brilliant eyes.

Transforming!

 

Crying heart.

Memory shocks!

Child saw death and can’t forget-

Now peaceful.

 

Laughing boy,

making friends,

finding safety in a room

filled with care.

 

Children,

blossoming!

Grace changing the future now!

Pledging hope.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

What’s possible

Seeking to change but bound by pain, a thief’s eyes weep in despair. He plainly can see , the course of the years, the choices that wounded those dear. The vileness breathes, a noxious perfume, of guilt, raw blight and his shame. He weeps as he runs back to his deep gloom and hides with the fumes in his brain.

Yet something keeps rising, if ever so faintly, of possible change in his path. He longs for a friend who believes in him still and will release him from chains and despair. He knows it’s impossible, he knows he’s foredoomed, to wander alone and afraid. And still he cries out for a break in this bond, that always strangles and shames.

Through all the layers of fear and deceit, that flow like instinct to fleece, one more chance to find a nickel or dime, to lend seduction’s embrace. But one still does stand, who sees deeper than most, and calls to the promise in life. He beckons and breathes, new possibilities grow, where only boils shame and this plight.

A moment in time, an instant most sure, when choice reaches out to explore. A shift brings a crack, in the darkness of loss, and grace kisses dreams once again. The despair is so strong, the grip is so fierce as this chance looms bright ahead. A shift to believe, redemption enfolds, and peace paints a face once dead.

Triumph is hard when the pain is most fierce and chains bite hard into flesh. Victory is sweet, when death is revealed as feeble when facing new life. A heart learns to love, first himself, then his wife, as this soul senses joy that’s surreal. His journey begun, resurrection is true, and destiny greets promise for life.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Day’s end

Warm

delightful breezes

caressing the fields.

Fragrance swirling; delicate hints-

scent’s harmony inviting to breathe.

Life rests in peace, ending day!

Sun’s intensity burns fiercely when directly overhead!

Relaxing, reflecting, enjoying this day’s gift.

Pondering tomorrow’s unique tantalizing hints.

Choosing hope, feeling fine!

We hold hands.

Slowly recline

together!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Mystery flowing

When I met her I just knew-

I could see it in her eyes-

she just seemed to be alive,

to all that’s good and  true.

She smiled in such an easy way,

She graced the world with peace.

She opened life to others.

She caressed it with her gentleness.

 

Life communicates it’s essence,

Whether dark and full of fear,

or in close encounters shining light.

In that moment when our souls meet,

we can often strip veneers.

Live that’s lived in seeing,

the wonder and the song of now,

can bring a mystery flowing

from heaven’s throne to mourning sighs.

 

She, the one so full of life,

was also torn by sorrow.

Her dear departed daddy lay,

beneath a somber cover of clay.

Her grief was real, and so I reached,

I touched in grace – felt the pain.

United in life, yet mourning loss,

we stood, two souls amazed and near.

And then we parted, two different ways!

I wonder what the moment meant

when seen from there beyond the grave?

Author  – Bill Tidsbury

On becoming Heroes

As a society we are very aware of being manipulated and used by unseen forces. Our theatres  are full of powerful images reflecting our aspiration for  heroes. There is a longing for people who are larger than life rescuers, that stand out as almost invincible!!  We look for those who have the capacity to draw out the unseen and challenge those who twist our lives to their own ends.

I don’t think that it is unrealistic to say  that our times have moved the whole world into a place where we are crying out for heroes – “saviours” who will individually make a difference!  I see hurting people’s hunger for someone. Who think , “Please stand up and arise heroically.” I can look around myself with the thought – “I wonder if this is the one!?”  Many even, have already selected their heroes and are ready to clash to defend him or her!

Yet,I am also aware that if I do not walk with an awareness of the forces that act upon me, I quickly become the puppet of any entity which may choose to take action to manipulate me!

A true hero arises not for what they can get from others but for what they can give to others.

What is curious, is that even as we jointly aspire for a “hero”, we have also chosen to frame ourselves in terms of personal inadequacy! The hero is outside – “not me”! “I just don’t have what it takes!”

As I see my world coming apart, I am more and more aware of the need for someone to “step up”. We need someone to save us from ourselves and our self made cycles that destroy.

I really do believe that for each of us, in our unique world, the answer to the hero really is Me – myself!!

What is encouraging for me is that so many are stepping up to take action! The reality that unless I act, no change will come is becoming evident across all aspects of society. We are shifting! This is monumental! We are stepping out of apathy into action. I can not give my action away to another. I must become the hero!

I am gifted with more potential than I can ever conceive. I can choose. I can be courageous! I have the amazing capacity to love. I can willingly give myself away! I am a wonder in the making, if I can but lift my eyes and see my own astonishing capacity to affect my world. I can step into an unexpected anticipation.

Yet still in the recesses of my mind – even as I take action, I find a conflict with my own personal history of failed aspirations. I am so familiar with those!! Yet this is the voice of the past not my future!

For me, there is something moving in our times that stirs up my own awareness of a spiritual reality that calls me into greatness.

Spirit is not about dominance. Spirit is about connectedness, about relationship, about mercy and love. It is about freedom and transparency. None of these grow without the soil of humility.

When I am thirsty for life, when I am willing to leave no stone unturned until I find vitality and life, I seek. When I seek, I find. It is a journey, yet the answer is always very near – not far away. It always involves a personal encounter with a vital and contagious organic truth. This truth brings life, laughter, joy and peace.

It is in quietness that I find the hero I have been created to be! It is out of quietness and peace that I change my world. Let’s continue to step into this journey. It’s time!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Shouting – in a world where whispers bring hope

We are moving into a time of conflict.

Fear fills the air.

People cry aloud!

People chant and taunt.

Actions bring harm. Pain hemorrhages everywhere.

Turmoil is causing visceral reactions.

I rise up to protect and defend my country- I am afraid!!

I rush forward to protest – I am scared of where things are going!

Truth is hard to hear when my heart is beating wildly!!

I can not see into your eyes when your eyes are violent and mine are angry!

Why should I care?

Whoever you are – you are the OTHER!! If you were my friend, you would be with me.

So I shout!

I feel strongly!

I know I am right – truth is on my side! I’m convinced! No one can change my mind!

I am blind – and now I hate!

You – the OTHER!

And it will be ok because after all – I am right!!

 

And truth??

 

Well it unfortunately lies bleeding on the ground.

 

How can I whisper when you are shouting? How can I bring change unless I scream?

Why does my heart look for quiet? Why is my heart bleeds full of silent screams?

 

Two lives whisper when love comes calling.

Two eyes soften in times of trust.

Two mouths touch with gentle kindness, when I see past your heart into your difference!

 

 

Hope rests with eyes that see.

 

Life lived in whispers brings a different type of victory.

Life arises in the quiet of a heart that is really free.

There is no fear when I am settled.

There is no dread when I walk in peace.

Eyes that are blind will open slowly, when I walk gently.

I connect your heart to life and love.

A sacrifice of peace is needed.

Quiet presence in the midst of violence.                 Actions taken that open windows.

Presence brought that stops the stones.

This is hopeless, it makes no sense! Violence never will still its voice!

 

We must arise! We must clear the streets  —of those who are so distinctly OTHER!!

 

WE HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE!

So love is exiled to the back room, while important matters change.

We all believe in love, dear.                           It’s just best to wait for a better day!

 

Yet,

still I cannot help it, still I cannot stop the need.

I must get up and reach my hand out, I must still whisper, I see your need!

Shouting never can bring hope – the world needs whispers!

So I quietly walk and look,

 into the eyes that still are shouting,

speaking whispers- wandering lonely -with my eyes so full of tears.

Author – Bill Tidsbury