New patterns

sand_mandala-kalachakra-mandala
Sand Mandala

This is something I wrote years ago when a dear friend moved away to be near her Aunt. Sadly, she died and her aunt lived on.

My friend
Your journey begins
A new life

Exploring your place
among
your beginnings

a time to see yourself
in your childhood
memories

and measure
what
you have become

sand-mandala-royal-photographymy friend
the for me
brings sorrow

a turning loose
of patterns
I loved

Learning how
To reaffirm
The friendship we have woven

Now must become
New patterns, new threads
New fabric

Not losing
The old
But adding new

Journeying on
To see with
New eyes

The whole pattern
Will emerge
In all its beauty

Could we remember?

Birth – Death

 

enjoy the journeySafe in the womb

the pressure rises

forcing us out

 

There is life now

there is no escape

no way out

 

When do we know

When do we understand

life is a journey

 

a journey

that only ends

in death

 

if only

I could remember

the journey into life

 

I know that

the journey into death

will be the same

 

Will I be as

reluctant

to face death

 

As that infant

in the womb

facing life

The Mighty Oak….a poem

The Mighty Oak

 

The old oak tree bwMy life must be a shadow

Standing beside the mighty oak

Towering toward the sky

 

What has he seen of life

Passing beneath outspread branches

Green with fern

 

Resting in the shade

Deer, squirrel, possum,

Raccoons, and rabbits wait

 

They hide when men with

Feathered headdress and

Quiet steps wander by

 

Mighty ships tall with sails

Have brought others

To sit below the ancient boughs

 

Strange machines have moved

Pine neighbors

And dwellings rose

 

The oak reached further

Growing older

Stretching out

 

Resurrections ferns

Adorn branches

And green with rain

 

No loss of leaves in winter

but when new leaves form

in spring old pushed aside fall

 

My life but a shadow

Of time for Him

Gone in an instant

 

He sees each change

As in a dream

Of  centuries gone

The bed

When my son was engaged he asked my husband ( a gifted carpenter) to make a bed for them. He made a beautiful four poster bed. I wrote the following poem about it.

edel-illo

The Bed

 

Its posts are silky

as the sanding is done

each coat of finish

a step of love

 

as loving as the lives

who will rest and love

in its grasp

 

the work of finishing

will be done

but the love nurtured in its depths

never complete

My view

It’s Winter

dark-gloomy-day-on-a-uk-beach-m-s

 

outside the flag whips in the wind

bleak and grey the skies loom overhead

the tide in the river fights to retreat

but the wind pushes up waves to impede

 

my view causes me to shudder

as if the wind can slide into the room

and bring its chill within

cold, cold, its mood is bleak

 

cold, cold my mood in response

mirroring the withering view

waiting, the kind sun to return

and bring its joy to lift my soul

 

© Suzanne Boyd 2018

The Coming

Tonight I just want to share a poem I wrote a while ago.

The Comingchristmas-nativity-scene-with-holy-family-.jpg

The night was dark and cold

or so I’m told

when God became a man

 

The stars were bright and clear

seeming so near

when shepherds strode the land

 

The angels sang for him

a special hymn

praising God’s name

 

and in a manger bare

with creatures there

sweet Jesus came

 

merry-christmas2The night again is cold

though time grew old

since he was here

 

his spirit lingers on

in my soul dawns

his presence near

 

for in my heart I find

Christmas reminds

me he’s not apart

 

but here to be with me

as long as I can see

him in my heart