Lamb’s wool -cleaned, carded, and spun into balls of industry and artistry – are soaked with color so ancient that the hues are embedded in the rock-hard strata of earth’s foundation – blue, scarlet, and purple. The aura so eternal that the Creator spoke their rich pigmentation into existence with a thought and a breath….
Tag: Israel
Skull Hill
Skull Hill In heaven, Skull Hill will never be a faint memory, rather a mountain we climb daily. The practice of devotion will continue, learned from our earthly courses and lessons in overcoming in victory. In Paradise, we can stop the climb, but we won’t desire that. The journey to the cross is too familiar…
Creative Synapases
Creative Synapses My creative synapses will make sense to me someday. They will not sputter in chaotic release, release, yes, but that utterance of halting expression which I must tame and strengthen to the core will one day flow in order. Ideas that I must now systematize and pull and push into place, stuffing into…
Shaking Fists at You
Shaking Fists They’re shaking fists at you when the least little thing goes wrong. Prancing with chipped shoulders of entitlement, rising, gathering, hoarding and calling it their own. Fastly falling, they blame you for that too. Never pausing to consider or thank the source of strength or power or wealth or life itself. Yet you…
Hip Struck
Hip Struck I crave silence but not just any, rather the kind that slathers the soul like a soothing salve and leaves a blanket of protection, soft luxury upon the skin. The kind that penetrates the crusty rim and reaches the brittle reed within. Layers and layers of lanolin, silence swathes a path of healing,…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 