Coming Home

By the time this is posted I will be flying home after a most important sojourn to the prairie. I spent time coming to terms with my past and taking ownership of my part. I gave myself the time to acknowledge old wounds, to let go of pain, and to finally grieve. Only by facing my issues and my fears head on am I able to finally release them. It's a matter of survival. My journey towards healing and spiritual growth continues. 


Today I am grateful for the support and encouragement of family and friends. I am truly blessed. 

Centus: Reflection

She wakes up late,

as usual,

unwilling to face the light

of another day.

Consciousness creeps close,

bringing with it

those terrorizing thoughts,

that threaten slumber’s false serenity.

Her eyes slowly open

to the harsh reality

of the horror

that her life has become.

She stumbles towards

her inevitable release,

the daily purge 
of emotional pain,

down the porcelain throne.

She pauses at the sink,

finally taking that hard, honest appraisal

of what her life has become.

The reflection in the mirror says it all.

Falling to her knees in prayer, she cries out,

“God, I can’t do this alone!” 


(100 words, prompt in bold green)

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I Met the Pope: Dream Poetry

I met the pope aboard

a sailing ship from sea

docked along a busy street

in waters rough and deep

He greets me in his glory

his vestments gold and red

I kneeled, receiving blessing

and ate the sacred bread

When stepping off the vessel

tides rose then raged and roiled

The ocean on city boulevard

in turbulent state embroiled

I turn to run but stop

willing to be catechized

even though that hallowed yacht

has been broken; now capsized. 

I watch the boat as it sinks

survivors are but a few

the Pontiff is not one of them

just members of loyal crew

In spite of what just happened

I continue this life’s sojourn

I gather belongings slowly

allowing time to mourn

I decide to leave my baggage

as offering, paying homage

before I journey onward

grateful for release of bondage

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This poem is based on a dream I had Sunday night (Easter). It is very personal, filled with symbols profound and deeply meaningful. I hope you enjoy and that possibly some of the metaphors will be relevant for you as well. 

Saturday Centus: Coming Home

The early November sunshine cast golden rays through the slits of the shabby shutters. Arising, throwing open the sash; she is greeted by majestic beauty. This is her place, her sanctuary.  

The metaphor is not lost upon her.

Similarly when emotions and memories of her past became overwhelming, she, like this old mountain cabin, would shut herself off from the outside world, securely lashing those shutters, fending off those wicked, winter winds that came in the form of nocturnal nightmares.  

But now that she has come home, she’s open and ready to embrace life’s splendid design; the divine plan God has for her. And it is pleasing. 

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I am participating in Ms. Jenny's Saturday Centus. This is where she provides a prompt and you only have up to 100 additional words to design a story or prose. This week's prompt is golden yellow in the story above. 

Please consider heading over to Jenny's blog to join in on the fun!