Waiting

(Here's a piece I wrote this past summer... guess I'm having summer envy today.)

I sit alone beneath a heaven of green leaves; blue sky and sunshine caught between. The summer breeze wraps around my skin. I breath in the hope of you, whispering for you to come, come, come.

~Heather Westover

The Intake

It's hard to look back on the woman I once was. The one who saw the world through clouded eyes of hurt and distrust, the one who blamed and justified for mere survival. Those selfish, needed eyes, how I hate them now. For they captured a story of only half truths and blink now in shame for the blindness of their broken view. I wish for different eyes, eyes that see past my own cuts and scars, eyes that feel for those who hurt me, eyes that reach past these years of regret and focus on the only One whose love can heal my blindness.

~Heather Westover

Forsaken

There are times when tears fall wasted.
Times when silence can't be broken.
Times when even love falls short.

~Heather Westover

Hues of Orange

I fell in love today, on a wooden bench in front of a bank. I was reading Oranges by Gary Soto. The world blurred in silent movement around me as I read. I was lost in the simple beauty of his details. It was like tasting love for the first time. It was sweet and sticky and o-so lovely. I was not on the walk Soto wrote about, but I felt like I was--it had come alive for me. I guess that's what writing is all about, to give to others tastes of things they haven't held or maybe things they've forgotten or lived past. Give them an orange, a nickel and a piece of chocolate and let them fall in love.

Oranges by Gary Soto

The first time I walked
With a girl, I was twelve,
Cold, and weighted down
With two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking
Beneath my steps, my breath
Before me, then gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to the candies
Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted -
Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners
Of her mouth. I fingered
A nickle in my pocket,
And when she lifted a chocolate
That cost a dime,
I didn’t say anything.
I took the nickle from
My pocket, then an orange,
And set them quietly on
The counter. When I looked up,
The lady’s eyes met mine,
And held them, knowing
Very well what it was all
About.
Outside,
A few cars hissing past,
Fog hanging like old
Coats between the trees.
I took my girl’s hand
In mine for two blocks,
Then released it to let
Her unwrap the chocolate.
I peeled my orange
That was so bright against
The gray of December
That, from some distance,
Someone might have thought
I was making a fire in my hands.

Happiness in a Haiku

It was just a normal day until I found this sweet, little book hiding on the back wall at Barns and Noble. I squealed with excitement and hugged it all the way to a little corner to do a quick "should I really buy this" reading... followed by "a-yea, you should really buy this" thought and now it's mine, all mine! There's something about a haiku that makes you stop, think and refocus on the essentials. Three magical, tiny lines that turn the ordinary into extraordinary. Patricia Donegan refers to them as "naked moments" and suggest that we could all do well if we lived with the "haiku mind," the ability to see the world and be awake to its simple, pure truth. I thought it would be fun to share of few of my haiku with you, so every once in a while (if I'm brave enough) I think I just may...

Here's one to get my courage flowing--in fact, it's my very first haiku, one I wrote years ago:

Tender branches bend and sway

stirring azure sky;

The roots are longing.

~Heather Westover

Fear

The tragedy lies not in the broken wing,

but in the fear of the mended one.

~Heather Westover

Broken

Loose gravel on a broken road.

I am tripping, falling;

Reaching for grace.

~Heather Westover





Photo: flickr.com

The color of love...

"Real love blushes in a rainbow of pink."

~Heather Westover






Photo: pixabay.com

Finding Love

"I know he likes me when his hand finds mine first, but I know he loves me when our hands meet in the middle."

~Heather Westover

Photo: www.flickr.com

Whispers...

I have found that if I sit still long enough,

I can hear the whispering of my heart.

~Heather Westover

Photo: wawabyjohnah.com

The Storm

Rain falls like threads of glass,

Shattering on the pavement below;

And I am caught between.

~Heather Westover

I felt it today, that ache to write... Oh, how I love that ache! That intense need to pour your emotions into words. But as always, once I sat in front of the computer, I was struck with fear. Frozen. My fingers unmovable, tangled in insecurity. The light from the monitor covered me in darkness. My hands couldn't, or wouldn't type. The connection from my heart to my hands severed, cut clean through with one slice. I doubted, and judged my own emotions as I forced key after key to somehow type my fear away. Until, at last, I felt the surge, the air becoming damp, and electric as a storm of words began falling from my finger tips. The keys softly clanking, splattering, raining emotion on to the canvas of white before me. I am drenched, I am awake, I am alive.


Photo: www.backfill.com