Emptiness
a whitening out
blotting up the mess.
But left alone
it is a throne
of utter loneliness.
Emptiness
a freeing find
but only for the brave.
The clutter gone
now be strong
or line a bleached out grave.
In emptiness
it’s possible
for newness to begin.
Choose, create
or open gates
let possibility win.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
This is how I fly
Try to touch a cloudless sky
Fear I will defy
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
I miss friendships, caress
the playfulness of nudge.
Without my heart is lonely,
dailyness a dragging trudge.
I miss compassions touch,
cupped in empathy.
The knowledge only passed
in arms of sympathy.
I communicate my love
with handshake, hug, and kiss.
When it’s withheld,
I feel myself dismissed.
Even though I know
right now is not the time.
I fear for every heart,
starving, overtime.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
On a hill
not far away.
There stands a stone
all shades of grey.
And on that stone,
one fateful day.
She sat to rest
from work and play.
There she sits
still to this day.
Covered in moss
a sad display.
She sat to long
emotions affray.
And decided to let
them all dance away.
As they danced,
across the way.
She never knew
the price she’d pay.
And as they passed,
to our dismay.
She changed to match
the stones dark grey.
Cold as ice
despite the day.
Still as stone
that won’t decay.
Only erode
as time will play.
Around her thrown
the grasses sway.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Silhouette upon the waves,
floating over unknown graves.
Ever on towards the light,
yet ever shrouded in the night.
Hear the sound as ripples pass
as the wind propels its mass.
There the ship of constant dreams
journeys on through all extremes.
No port to find, no home to hail.
Forever doomed to onward sail.
Glimpse the Captain where he stands,
points ahead with outstretched hands.
Dreams aglow within his face,
of loneliness there is no trace.
A hero or a madman? Both.
Holding on to dreamers oath.
Passing towns and shipping lanes.
Care for them? None remains.
Busy chasing swirling thoughts,
lost in future plans and plots.
If only he would look this way,
see my wave, remember day.
But ever focused on he goes.
When will he end? No one knows.
© Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Too large for the swing?
Be the push that brings on joy
power to employ.
It may be dark inside,
but without it’s strangely light.
As the world lay sleeping,
nature donned a blanket, white
Though the sky is thick,
with heavy clouds of gray.
The early morning darkness,
is lightened by winter’s play.
I sit in my dark room,
watch the lights return.
Black to gray, with blue and white.
the seasons complete a turn.
Off in the distance,
past trees and lake, there’s more.
Under clouds horizon peaks
a glimmer over the far shore.
It was white and bright but brief,
as if the sun is shy.
It’s been a while since winter played
beneath a sun-filled sky.
So she’ll stay behind her clouds,
soften down her light.
This first encounters not the time,
she’ll savour her delight.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2019
Grief
When you long
When your strong
Though you’ve lost
Know the cost
When there’s hope
Through grief you cope
When one is gone
Yet life goes on
No
This grief is never wrong
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Note: Many of the images I draw and add writing to have spelling mistakes. It may be unprofessional to share them, but I don’t care. The raw images hold meaning for me. So I still share them as is. Thank you for understanding and reading despite my mistakes.
Starting with the crowning leaves
it trickles down with slow intent
until all burn with crimson glow
a constant wave, hours, days old
Watch the tree be kissed by fire
red, yellows, lingering greens
ombre waves, a colour tide
how long until it all consumes?
Converts each leaf as colours flirt
and flit, and drip, and turn
not alone, it kisses all
each a different hue
Fire transformed to gold as
light skips from maple to aspen
from sugar to quaking
autumn overtaking
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Listen to the crowning leaves
Their glory days proceed with ease,
The wind gives to them a voice.
They shout, with shaking leaves, rejoice.
First time snow has run away
Autumn has another day.
Leaves of gold shimmering shine
Their dying days a heaven shrine
They do not weep as down they fall
They lay their royal carpet for all
And all can play in piles of gold
Rich or poor, young or old.
Soon there gold will turn to brown
But in their cries there is no frown
It’s well known they’ve earned their rest
A golden crown marks them as blessed
The first time snow has come and gone
So autumn sings us one last song.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2019
Today is Canadien Thanksgiving. I wish you all a safe, peaceful day.
