Shattered…#123

 

 

Old Homeplace Barn
Old Homeplace Barn

Shattered…

On a warm summer day, an old soul returned to a place where a part of it remained for years. Waiting while misplaced pieces of it floated through life on waves of tears. Many gathered on this day all had the same ancestral blood flowing through their veins. Some came out of respect, the unbroken circle came for gain.  These mortals had tried to keep the old soul away from this final commemoration. They did not care about its many years of painful isolation.

Death had not fractured the unbroken circle, gone unchanged for years. The return of this old soul brought to the cloistered flock panic and fear.  Disregarded, invisible with no right to be heard, unwanted at birth, then cast out on a painful journey at an incredible cost. To penetrate the unbroken circle was a battle that would forever be lost. The old soul believed it was a time to grieve, a time to pray. A time to remember when an innocent soul was simply forgotten, tossed away.  On soft breezes, those that gathered

could be heard with a pretense of moans. Their voices echoed memorials where truth was silenced the real story hidden, inside of the unbroken circle forbidden. The old soul stared down at a mound of dirt waiting for love that the grave could not offer, while the unbroken circle gathered and divided the coffers.

A loving soul had returned to where a part of it remained for years. It gathered up the pieces of its heart and wiped away the tears. The shattered old soul had returned on that warm summer day. To grieve the loss of never hearing “I love you” or feeling a gentle touch. It needed to tell the unbroken circle when one is unloved their lives are crushed.

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
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As a Child I Prayed it was the Way…#119

 

Image result for Native American women Praying images

As a Child I Prayed, it was the Way…

Knarred pines below the mountain where we lived were living gravestones on the
land we called home high above them was the kudzu-shrouded caves where I played with constant skinned knees, Hoarfrost eyes and long black braids. Below this mountain was hallowed ground and beneath decaying pine needles the bleached bones of my ancestors lay hidden in the mounds.

My Great-grandmother whom we all call “Ma” said the mountain was like a cathedral, a place where she took me every morning to pray, she told me that it was our way. As the night shadows disappeared in the mornings golden rays, we raised our palms toward the sky to bless another day.

Ma’s voice strong and clear begin to chant in her native tongue the words robust and bold; it came from deep within her as if orchestrated by her Soul. Floating across the mountains scarred face her mantra rose to the Great Mystery – her God, she said that I must always honor this sacred place.

She told me that the sounds of a waking earth should reminded us of how the world came to be, her prayers spoke of rebirth and how our Souls would someday be free. We walked through emerald grass damp with morning dew, the unseen breeze kissed our face, and she believed that with the beginning of each morning our life was once again renewed.

We hurried to the creek behind our tarpaper shanty to wash away all of Yesterday’s sorrows. I held her hand wishing that this were how our lives would always be, that I would never grow up and she would never grow old, and it would always be Ma and me. Yes when I was a child my Great-grandmother taught me many lessons about life, it was the way.
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Infinite Hope…#116

I live in a senior housing complex, although the bodies are aging and most minds are unclear I watch as those around me live their last days with an attitude that the young does not have for the wisdom of these people comes with years of experience in living. It is the holidays that are filled with sadness when memories come flooding back; they send many to places that they visited long ago. I embrace living with the varied personalities and ages. I chose to live in harmony with those much like me, yet I see many who have given up on life, I find it a tragedy. For those I wrote this poem.

 

Infinite Hope…

What does one do in these bad times, my mind that of an old woman, I clear my soul each day. It is in old age that we try to be kind, in younger days we walk through life without worry and blind. Youth to old age, life passionate and wild, yet within time the elderly returns to the days of a child. I do not ask from my bed of death to be free, I do ask that my God let me die in dignity.

I ask that death allow me to find the freedom that my life denied; that I am strong when my family is at my side. Spare me of the whisperings of a crowded room, that there be a ceremonious air and not one that is gloom. I have lived without glory or fame; no one will remember my name. No one knows when I am bound for death, only God knows when I will take my last breath.

While the world around me in silence lies, move me outside so I can see sunshine once more before I die. Let it bathe me in the wonder that I was born, across my face its beauty spread, like the sun I ask only for your smiles of love when I am dead. I pray for no sickroom, no mortal strife, no turmoil for a little breath, let it be a natural passing, no struggling with death.

Let me go composed, fearless, mind clear, willing to let my spirit go somewhere else to wait for everyone that to me is so dear.

 

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

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My Thoughts for Today…#115

 

compassionel-wordle

My Thoughts for Today…

 
Every day I schedule one hour to visit my followers, read their blogs and I always get a storehouse of information. All the while, as I am doing this, I contemplate what I might post for the day. Today my thoughts are random and I will do my best to pull them together for my followers. I have a great appreciation for the depths of my follower’s wisdom and what they have to offer. The words, the artwork and the insight on an enormous amount of information, the sharing of their lives.

 
Today, my thoughts touch upon the duration of each person’s life, they face many experiences, they go beyond the day-to-day activities, and they face struggles and difficulties. In this season of gifts and giving many feel connected to all beings, nature, and possibly reach to the heavens, to the stars, and give thought to what defines them as a person. In the winter of my life, I have tried to use every moment as an opportunity to know my innermost self. Even at this advanced stage I take every opportunity to expand my knowledge, to become something more, it is not easy and the progress is slow, but trying to become more today than I was yesterday is the goal.

 
I try to take time each day to quiet my mind, to listen to my Soul, these journeys within realigns my inner self and hopefully putting me on the right path that I must follow. My battle to show compassion and loving kindness is at times hard, as I have lived a life filled with pain and heartache since my own birth. It is during these times that I must go deep within myself to go beyond my own pain. To reach out to those whose life may be equally or more complicated than my own. I realize that anger hiding behind a smile is not compassion or loving kindness.

 
Therefore, I leave you with this…Imagine a world where people resolve their conflicts with loving kindness and compassion. This is the path that I want to walk and these are the lessons I want to keep learning even if it is the winter of my life.

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
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Hidden Emotions…#113

Hidden Emotions…

 

Conception, birth and then the process

of growing older, dying is in the future

as the lifecycle travels quickly and then

the final chapter written. There are no

exceptions, only an age and date separates

all living beings.
Strength lies in the middle growing, developing

a sense of self…we bloom or we lay in waste

with the fading of seasonal growth. Life is not

totally built around your dreams, but of what

impression you leave behind during your journey.
Weep for the past and drink in the thirst of the

years that may come, be strong of heart and

foresee with the eyes of a visionary. You may at

times feel that you were never young, life being

prison of weary pain, remember this you are not

what you feel.

 

Deep within there is a remembrance and emotion

hidden in the heart, quiet. You may be a ghost of

what you once were…but you are still a living being

and the world applauds the reason for your birth.

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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Going Home…#112

Going Home…

Morning, glorious morning, the sunbeams seeps brightly through the windowpane like frost from winters frozen ground. I rise, face the Eastern sky that is where the warmth of the day can be found. I open the window the breeze bathes me with the scent of lilacs that grow lavishly in the spring. While somewhere in the distance, plum dusk lingers as the last moments of night clings.

A robin searches for worms beneath my crabapple tree, I sip from my favorite cup, a hot peach flavored tea. It is time to dress, comb my snow-white hair and take the well-worn path down the hillside toward the sea. At water’s edge, I pause to remember God, to hear his wondrous call, I will dedicate this moment to the Great Mystery of it all. I pray for patience in enjoying these golden years, to hold my head high and face life without fear.

I return home and I hear children playing in the fields far away, I remember the joy of the imaginary castles in the sky that I use to build. I stop to think, have I sat here all day, reliving my own childhood in that special way? I slowly rise from the old oak rocker, did I remember to eat, is it time to go inside, to wash the dried sand from my feet.

It is then that I return to my thoughts as evening shadows come into sight. It is time for me to climb beneath my mother’s old quilts, my eyes will close and I will flow among the starless time called sleep, my God has a promise to keep. I float across a space upon the softness of a sparkling wind, along the way I see family and friends. I know that my soul from its earthly body has gone; where silver sands and emerald seas will forever be a part of me…this is everlasting love, at last I am home.

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
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Running in Place…#110

 

Running in Place…

 
Life is uncertain, a race where most people

do no more than run in place, there can be

happiness, sadness, and around every corner

a surprise; yet hope blooms. Life is what one

must create within their allotted space, or sit

on the sidelines, leaving their journey to fate.

Life is not all joy, as we float upon the winds

of time; there are rights and wrongs; and

unknown quandaries, setbacks, and living means

many mountains to climb. Life quickly passes,

fair and cloudy days, laughter and tears, and

then the warmth of the older years subsides

ones fears.

 
Life may mean walking in the valley of

despair until fate starts an upward climb,

living with happiness, or grief; always trust

the heart and mind. Life lived in harmony

with others, loving, caring and expectations

met; seeds of livelihood sown, atonement

locked away; we strive and labor as time

passes on. Life waits for no one, your parents

may have taught you the lessons to get you

through those uncertain years, and you leave

the nest filled with a heartfelt quest; now

living as an adult, it is your own mind that

you must trust.

 
Life is a learning ground, you stumble and

you fall, the lessons you were taught might

take effort, then you find that you do not

know it all. Life when you were a teen you

found that you were filled with adventure,

you move forward in the quest; soon you

are older and found that you have tried

to do your best.  Life has turned dark hair

into gray; the pains of just living will never

go away. Life gave you the spirit to live,

when things went wrong you never ask why;

age is now no longer running in place; you

can see the light that you will follow. You

grow silent, sitting broken and bent, you

mind growing hollow.

 

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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