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Benediction

The whole World is sick in mind, body, spirit, and heart. Our heads ache, our insides churn, our chests pound, our lungs burn, and our b...

Saturday, December 12, 2020

Box of Wonders — Box of Love


(dedicated to Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee)


When the leaves are gone,
there is still a tree beneath with the beauty of the silhouette
and the variegated textures and colour of the bark.

Under the grey and stormy clouds,
the sky is a canvas of blue; hues soft, bright, tinted by sunrises or sunsets
or dark, midnight blue with the glimmer of distant lights.

Below the water, the sand and rocky sea-beds expose treasures with each low tide; 
a colourful mosaic of scattered shells, aquatic lifeforms, rocks, driftwood, seaweed, 
and wave-polished glass.

Inside a rough, misshapen orb of characterless stone, a crack reveals a glittering rainbow;
a hollow displaying a geode of gemlike beauty within.

We animals have minds and souls
of wit, love, beauty and strength within our flesh, fur, feathers, and skin.

Our bones are strong, our brains brilliantly control our hearts, nerves, senses, and breath;
no matter how our exteriors appear, we are individually beauty and love.

We know when we open a package that the container might be prettier than the contents. We might not find the hoped-for answer to our desires within the gift-wrapped box, or the anticipated joy when opening the item just delivered at our door.

That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a treasure to be found within each living thing, each experience, each sight, sound, fragrance, touch, each new flavour experienced, every new stranger met, or lessons learned.

Open each “Box of Love” with love; Life is full of wonders to be opened and savoured.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 12 December 2020

Saturday, December 05, 2020

Solstice

 


Holly and Ivy, Comfort and Joy

Mistletoe, wassail, a shiny new toy

Carolling, harmony, Yule log aflame

Letters all written, does His list have your name?

Rime on the windowpanes, ice on the eaves

Hoar frost on tree branches naked of leaves.

Bonfires on hilltops cajoling the Sun,
Candles in windows guiding the One.

A wren for the Lady, a stag for the Lord,
Morris Men leaping with bells and wood sword.

Hobbyhorse in the nursery, Hobby Horse on the Green
Rocking the little ones, bowing down to the Queen;

Green boughs and berries, shoes by the door
Harvest’s last bounty, Winter winds roar.

Warm crackling hearth fires, bright twinkling lights,
Protecting our dreams through the long Winter’s nights.

Peace for a Blessing, For a Prayer, Gods’ speed

Dark Winter to Spring’s thaw, strong growth from the Seed.

Ivy and Holly, our lives a wreath-wheel

The Seasons a Circle, each New Year the Seal.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 11 November 1999