enchanted world
serenade me on through this enchanted world
Bach and Al Capone together in this magic lamp
i tuck underneath my arm
and with an ordinary charm i make my way
through this enchanted world
from “Enchanted World” —-s.fraley
in the midst of the valley which was full of bones
so many bones in the open valley
so very dry
"Son of man,
Can these bones live?" from Ez. 37:1-3
Everytime I think I am dead and gone, I see myself rise from a pit of bones.
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Rawesome raided. Volunteers jailed. Raw milk and produce taken away. What agenda is this?
serenade me on through this enchanted world
Bach and Al Capone together in this magic lamp
i tuck underneath my arm
and with an ordinary charm i make my way
through this enchanted world
from “Enchanted World” —-s.fraley
To know that we are the ones moving toward you
Not you to us—
Does it really matter?
We see you appear,
Your topmost arc emerging from the liquid horizon.
Our heartbeats jump to the power of your first rays.
Alive.
Sometimes a thought is there before you realize you were going to think anything, and you are about to move away from it and on to another until, if you are lucky, you look back just in time before it is out of sight and recognize it as a thought worth pondering. These can end up being the interesting thoughts. If you attempt to write them down, they may begin as a simple phrase or flow into a paragraph, a page, or even more before you start to take over and direct the flow. Then it gets quiet because you are not listening.
I guess we can’t always be listening, can we?
convince me
that the wings are real
show me
where to go from here
remind me
of the light outside
and the joy that smiles in the dark
seeing all without wincing away
wings are very powerful things
by s.fraley
Two kinds of mind - one flowing, one solid. The solid seeks to structure the flow, to understand and direct and control the flow, to hold it like a vessel. But the vessel will have to ride the flow before it knows where it’s going.
s.fraley
Monsters that haunted me
I ceased to fight.
Fierce holds loosened
Malicious lights in raging eyes dimmed.
Guttural rumblings and restless growls
Were assuaged by great gulps of silence.
Accusers who sat in judgment
I ceased to debate.
Grime of ancient contracts
Sealing my fate settled to the floor.
Musty mumblings and offended dogmas
Dissolved into dust motes on a sunbeam.
sherry fraley 2007
last night I saw the Fields of Light
shimmering through the shivering night
feathery fingertips of grace
wiped the teardrop from my face
faithful brush of the wandering saint
caressed my soul with his shadowy paint
so i could stare into the lights
and see the patterns of their flights
open mouthing to the wind
that filled me up to fly again
s.fraley
Every time I think that I am dead and gone
I feel myself rising from a pit of bones.
So unexpected, this ghost of another day—
I had forgotten that it feels this way.
Flavors, textures beneath the words of these living souls,
Their subtle expressions and gestures shaping the world—
See them with joy,
see them with laughter,
Feel their weariness as they follow after all the disguises of Emptiness.
A winged and heavy creature glides across the ocean of night
Dipping low into a sailor’s fevered dream
and sipping from a child’s hidden tears.
Echoes of ancient longings pierce through all the worlds,
Stirring up corpses of long abandoned dreams.
See them scurry after the receding shadows of forgetfulness.
Feel the sting of wounds fresh cut by the sword of Turning Away.
I did not know it would feel this way
As agony and ecstasy clasp hands
And merge into the smile that journeys across the arc of my soul
as she rises from this pit of bones.
s.fraley
Leave Note / Reblog
death despair futility joy longing pain rebirth poem
