While in Scotland, I wept the sound of rain in unison with the heavens’ downpour upon an ancient land. The first drops sparkled as they mingled with soil and salt and sand. Their song is eternal—a melody of old, known to fishermen and warriors, whose deepest joy is bound to Him. The world grows black,…
Category: Poetry
For Freedom
As sure as first light, the silvery mist rises from Scotland’s moors and mountains and lingers all the day, past midnight blue. It is a perfumed haze, a glimpse of the Son of Man himself, Jesus, Warrior and King—who walks in thin air across the land. His footprints drip in the mist with fragrance as…
First Rain
Sometimes the rain carries me to the eternal God Himself whose shadow He deigned to shimmer within a fading fragment— like a raindrop. When heaven and earth blend, the atmosphere grows redolent with eternity. One small picture of that mix is rain and earth. First rain mingled with soil takes on an irresistible scent. Before…
Yes
Yes, I’ll journey with you to Skull Hill in springtime, the hyacinths dripping of perfume and the lily blazing purity in the flooding sunshine of noonday. I’m frail and naked and ashamed— beaten and exposed to my bone’s marrow, but I will go with you. I’ll fall upon you in the river of crimson that…
Gleam
Millions of pinholes twinkle across a midnight sky, a bubbly mountain river shimmers in sunlight as it flows to the sea, sand glistens through the water at the ocean shore, bright eyes gleam from a distant playground, and a smoldering ember glows red hot to the end. A small thing it is not…to shine, to…
Proclamation
The black earth that swallowed the acorn, and the seed that died and split open. The tender sapling that shivered to rise, and the tree that towered above the house to touch the clouds. The roots that bore deep below the sand and rock, and the verdant leaves that waved with the wind. The veins…
Beautiful Words
I’m tenderly moving the stones around the velvet-lined box of cedar. Some, I pick up to examine—peering into their deep and light shades of color. I’m looking for beauty, clarity, and roughed authenticity, scars—yet polished by time and conflict. The gems will string together to tell the story of what I see and don’t see,…
Blurred Words
Tonight I blurred my words and remembered you, fondly. Sometimes when you blur your words with a friend—it heals your soul, and you know you’re not alone. You are not alone. The vagueness of life demands analgesic, and sharing of vulnerabilities leaves the sweetest taste. In the braided arms of convivial moments and beloved friends…
One Nod
In time, you stop gathering things and begin to collect moments. You learn to draw a deep furrowed line in the world to hedge off the chaos and begin to measure life by the wealth of blessing without sorrow and suffering that has spurned evil for good. At long last, you cease competition and cleave…
Winter Sweep
The fire crackles hot, while I drink steaming mugs of tea on the run. I would like to pause to mark these moments laden with winter beauty, the icy limbs of barren branches, the silver silence of powder snowfall, the midnight, moonlight sparkle of downy flake, and the blinding sting of noonday. But my closets…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 