With vibrant eyes and joyful smile
She brightens every room
Her sunny laugh and cheerful style
Unending, I presume.
*
Quiet as a cat,
She sits as still as night;
And as the curls fall round her face
As soft and light as lace,
A smile glows out from brown eyes,
Appearing bright and wise.
And where she sat
Warmth could be found
In that pretty sight
Spreading all around
The beauty of a lily, white
So purely shedding light.
*
It’s the end of the day, and I need a break.
I can’t possibly learn anything more
With this headache.
Check the tide charts for the state of the shore -
Looks like it’ll be
A negative point nine
In an hour or two. Let’s see -
I’ll whip on some sunblock (the dog starts to whine)
Grab a hat (lost my sunglasses), check my chair
For the keys (he’s barking now).
Snap on a leash. Step outside. Such cool air
I’m not used to on a sunny day. But how
Fresh the wind is, how the walk
When she died
I cried,
and I
can’t explain the hurt inside.
I laid my head
Down on the bed
So much to say,
But in that silence, all was said.
Still, she looked into my eyes
after so many tries
said, “I
love
you.”
That was enough
her feelings
true
when she told me
“I love you.”
Lately the Lord has been teaching me what joy is, and so I wanted to share a little bit of my personal journey with you.
There’s two ways to look at the cup in your hand
Two ways to look at a day
Two ways to live
Two ways to walk
And two ways to see your life.
The cup could be, of course, half-empty
You could focus on the pain
And gripe and moan in emptiness
Ignore the gift just giv’n.
You are pitied most, dear friend—
Your gaze, misplaced, is greed.
OR—
Incandescent joy
This is not a ploy
Happiness today
Hold it not at bay
Let the light so glow
Everyone will know
Seems I cannot wait
Jitters won't abate
Inexplicable
Patience workable
Be still oh my heart
Carry on your part
Feelings shan't prate
It's well worth the wait
I smiled at my little girl and imagined what frame would fit best around this pose of hers. And then I stopped smiling. There were tears in her eyelashes. I looked closer and noticed the little pucker just below the left side of her lips that she always wore when she was sad or hurt. I wondered what was wrong. I forgot about the perfect frame and worried about my little daughter. I wondered if I should wake her up and ask what was wrong. Her mother would have known. But her mother wasn't here. I shook my head as I turned to go out the door and then I stopped.
When I woke up, I felt sick. I sat up in bed, realizing I was already late for work. Then suddenly the memories of the previous night flooded into my recollection and I fell back onto my bed.
My sister was dead, and I would never get to see her get married and become a mother, which was always her wish. But it would never be. My anger again was aroused, and I spoke aloud to God, saying, "Why, Lord, have you taken my sister's life? Do you not have any consideration for human kind?"
"Matilda is very sick."
I couldn't believe my brother's words. Yes she was sick; she'd been sick for the past week, but had been recovering the past couple days. I had been there at noon that day and she had seemed almost ready to get up and walk. I wondered how she could be sick again.