ghosts

I am lonely again, and lie in bed
listening to the wind blow worries through my head.
If I called out to you, I know you would come,
but I'm paralyzed again with gloom.

How can I ask you
to stay in a haunted house?
How can I ask you
to share your space with ghosts?

elsie (part 2)

I greet Elsie in the hallway
with a smile every day.
She says hello with an even tone
and stares ahead with a stony gaze.

Her mouth is nearly motionless,
as flat as Illinois.
Her expression has no curves or hills.
She walks with purpose and poise.

But I have seen her smile
in the lunchroom now and then.
I have seen her stone walls soften
in the presence of a friend.

I have even seen her laughing,
but just when it seems the way is clear,
I reach out to her again
and walk straight into a glass door.

A heedless, happy robin,
slammed into the ground once more.
Will I ever find the key to the house
where Elsie's smile is stored?

She speaks to me of poetry.
She hints at darkness deep.
She tells of a great dragon
in a faraway cave, asleep.

I fancy myself a mother bird
offering fat worms of hope
to dragons or children in tangled up nests
who need to know they're not alone.

painted sky

I'm twenty-two, and drive to work
while the sun rises every morning.
If I'm lucky, I can see the sun set
as I drive home in the evening.

I feel like I just discovered
sunrises and sunsets this past year.
I used to think that the really beautiful ones
were an exception, something rare.

But now the sky lights up differently
every morning and every night.
The clouds' soft edges boldly gleam,
and vibrant colors fill my tired eyes.

I'm twenty-two and never knew
that each day held such a gift.
I discovered it when I needed to-
when my soul began to slip.

New masterpieces every day
that move my heart to praise
His mercies, new each morning,
and His never-failing grace.

He lifts the sun so lovely,
even when most of the world sleeps in.
We ignore the beauty just outside
our curtains or our skin.

Faithfully, He paints the sky
each morning and each night.
Until we know we are in need
we will not see the light.