Month: September 2022

Linger

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‘Linger’

It once roared loudly
With an abandon that belied the ordinary mouthpiece
It once shone with brilliance
And heat
That even the blind couldn’t doubt
It poured torrential waters across thirsty furrows
To quench loneliness’s deep thirst

Time has changed its face
Its roar is now a purr sounded in quiet corners
Its light has deepened
To a soft amber that heats as slow fed coals
Its waters have slipped deep
Locked within rich earth carpeted with green

It is a love that lingers into the beyond dreams
Infusing every breath with trust
Each morning with assurance
Even tears with hope
As fingers curl around each other
Locked in companionship
And gray hairs sprout to sparkle against tired temples
It is a love that lives

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (85)

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Out of the sustaining cycles of life, the water cycle is one of my favorites to think about.

Every drop in the ocean would once have been rain that every flip of a fin stirs, and every current shares with the whole earth.

The beauty of our word is memorizing.

I see intent and intricate planning in its design. This belief doesn’t make me afraid of science, as some people think of those who are religious. No, it lends me a joy as I contemplate the puzzle pieces.

But I am also a dreamer, not a scientist. Still, the thought of ‘what if’ pulls at my heart, maybe close to the same way as it would for my calculating brothers and sisters?

What would it be like to ride those vapors?

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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Helping Hands

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‘Helping Hands’

Hands outstretched
Confession            on quivering lips
“I broke it.”
Be it cup or figurine knocked upon the ground
By careless elbows
Compassion leaks from love itself
Dripping into cracks as
Helping hands hold the pieces together
Waiting

Release is gradual
Will it hold?           Is it strong?
In the cup of gentleness
When it’s ready
“It’s okay. We fixed it.”
A young soul learns forgiveness
And trust
When asked to place the treasure
Back home

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (84)

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There is a beauty like no other when it rains, each drop its own little world until it touches down.

What must it be like to be separate as you fall to be broken apart across pavement? Never ceasing to be what you are, but to have your world change so drastically as you slide down hill, finding a crack and joining the soil. Remaining what you are, but also changing.

What must it be like to touch down upon the sea and join an uncountable multitude of life? Something with sound and molecules invisible and unheard by the human world?

That fall, that union, vital to our existence. Without it? We wither.

Each single drop, so important.
But alone, never enough.

Only embracing togetherness of different kinds does water nourish life.

…like people…

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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Nature’s War

marygracewriting2 Comments

Street lights cast
A shimmering glow
As sheets of rain pass
Row on row.

Drops hit pavement
Scattering dance.
A fight with earth?
Or nature’s romance…

Water escapes
In to each tiny crack.
Eroding man’s hold,
Turning time back.

From pavement to sand,
The battle is slow.
But nature has time,
Time? An endless flow.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (83)

marygracewriting2 Comments

Do you know the ache of honest work?
The burn of weary feet?

Do you know the sweet sensation of a deep pile carpet after work shoes are shed?

Without the ache, we would not know the release of rest.

May this weekend give you that rest your weary feet might need.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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Together

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I ask for his hand
He holds on tight
A curve is coming
It might mean a fight

But we stand together
Hand in hand, we’re one
We won’t be separated
We can’t be undone

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

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Six Word Story (82)

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I remember my red balloon. It was heart-shaped with ‘Happy Birthday’ printed in white letters across one side.

I loved that balloon.

Unfortunately, my parents’ living room ceiling hated balloons of all kinds.

“Hold on to the sting, Mary.” I was told.

But, In the middle of childhood games and enthusiasm I let the string of go and in a startling second… That balloon burst as it touched the brickly popcorn surface.

Now I have a new balloon. But I have learned my lesson. I won’t let my dream touch that prickly ceiling…

How about you?

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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