I cannot find my heart
In the hustle and bustle and hassle and rustle…
Though it’s not even Christmas, I fear!
I cannot find my heart
In illusion, confusion, profusion, delusion,
For its voice is too quiet to hear.
In the silence I wait,
When I can remember,
And call to the Spirit inside.
I cannot find my heart
Unless I am seeking
Rediscovering what’s always been mine.
—
For the Fifth Anniversary celebration at dVerse,
where Walt asks us to draw inspiration from this quote:
“I am cold, even though the heat of early summer is adequate. I am cold because I cannot find my heart.” ~Sebastian Barry from his novel A Long, Long Way
Celebrating is the last thing I feel like doing.
The first thing is sleep.
The second is coffee, but I’ve already had too much.
That leads to the third,
A terminal headache…
But this, too, shall pass
As I journey onward
To celebrate
Again!
—
Grace hosts today’s first of five anniversary features over at DVerse.
The Quadrille has become a favorite of mine, and this one should contain the word “journey”. I am journeying indeed, but not celebrating… yet.
Many, if not all of us at one time or another, live in silent desperation. We feel we can’t tell others what is really going on, so we (try to) hide behind a smiling face, a sense of humor, evasive answers, or in this case, a pink flamingo. May this song be a reminder that we’re all in this together, and there is a Light of Truth behind our identities and expectations!
Instrument: Brio – Red Cedar Concert Ukulele
Refrain:
I hid my sins behind
A pink flamingo
So people think things go
The way I wish they would.
But when I take the time
To see the light inside me,
I know it gently guides me
To a place that’s real and good.
1. The paradise I got
Is not the paradise I wanted.
And the love I thought would last,
It slid right down the drain.
And I just couldn’t face the facts
Of the faces and opinions.
So I held it all inside me
And tried not to complain.
Refrain:
2. The picture that I see
Is not the picture that I wanted.
And the things I need to do,
It seems they never do get done.
And I just couldn’t face the facts
Of the faces and opinions.
So I tried to smooth it over
And paint a better one.
Refrain:
‘Cause that flamingo statue can fall over.
And all the stuff behind it can pour out.
My insecurities are like that cover.
God sends the tides and washes them all out.
So no more hiding sins behind
A pink flamingo
So people think things go
The way I wish they would.
‘Cause when I take the time
To see the light inside me,
It always gently guides me
To a place that’s real and good.
A place that God provides me
Where I understand His good.
Instrument: Tempo – Seagull Excursion Folk Acoustic Guitar
O don’t expect our threads to look the same.
1. As cultures, families, and friends,
We have some common threads for sure.
They give us things to talk about and help our bonds to form.
But no matter what we think and say
Or do that looks the same,
Our common threads are different players in a special game.
So
Refrain:
2. Religions, hobbies, work, and life,
They give us common threads to hold,
Connecting us through chaos and confusion in the cold.
But no matter what we pick and choose
That looks the same to you,
We add a special touch to our corner of the truth.
So
Refrain:
3. There is one Spirit in us all.
It’s the common thread that’s real;
The God who weaves our tapestry and lets us live and feel.
And no matter what we find in life,
Our threads are in His hand.
The Spirit won’t unravel, and the work is always grand!
But
Refrain:
No, don’t expect our threads to look the same.
Refrain:
Don’t expect our threads to look the same
As they intertwine with others in play.
Like everyone in fact,
They travel on a path.
But we see and hear and touch and know within a narrow frame.
So don’t expect our threads to look the same.
Your god must be small if he compels you
to hate in his name. If he demands
that you sacrifice innocents because
some of them might disagree with you
Your god must be small indeed if
mere mortals can make him quake in fear
of their rebellion, and if that fear
causes him to hire mercenaries
to squash rebellion
Your god must be small if you must
even slaughter those
who worship the same god as you
but in a different way
Yes. Your god is small. Too small
to have made you a man. And so
your god is small
and you are no more than a beast.
~~
Although this poem is written primarily in response to Islamic extremists, it equally applies to anyone of any faith who hates in the name of his/her god. I am a Christian, but I would go so far as to say…
The scent of pages takes me back
To story time when, as a child,
I reveled in the sound of tales
Of lands far off and friends nearby.
The pages turn and years, they pass,
But even still my nose can tell
The difference in the newspaper
Or magazine, and books loved well.
The scent of pages takes me back
To brighter days and better times.
I catch it now and breathe a smile;
The pages sent an open mind!
—
Grace is hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse,
where the challenge is to write about “scent”. Though I can’t read printed books, I’ve always been drawn to pages–stinky newspaper, slick magazines, old, well-worn books with cracked covers… I knew them all, both by touch and by scent. I still love paging through a book, not to read, but to take it in and remember there really is a world of possibilities right here!
Ouch! How the thorns of life impress their mark;
Impacting like a traitor in the dark!
A bleeding wound that never seems to heal;
With all the replays, blood cannot congeal.
Too overwhelmed, forgetful in the pain..;
Take heart! The roses always bloom again!
—
I’ve come to enjoy this, the Quadrille at dVerse,
where Björn is hosting, and today’s word is “rose”!
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