Linger

‘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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Helping Hands

‘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)

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

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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Together

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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Stone Murals

Sharp edges
Multicolored pores
Showing off scars
Human endeavors

Broken stones
Blasted wide
Essence laid bare
In cascading lines

Painting a mural
History past
Our earth bleeds colours
Painting murals that last

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020


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Six Word Story (81)

We have learned to fear silence.

The loneliness, the lack of progress.

When we learn to stop our chatter, pause our industry, we will hear what lays underneath what we fear.

The beat of our hearts, the breath of life, the creaking of growth, the groaning of decay.

When we sit with that thing, we fear, we learn what life really is.

In the learning we find new ways to sing and build around silence.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Did We Ask

Did we ask to exist?
Think on it…
A sentient thought that
Could whisper to a woman’s whom
“I’m ready.”
Or…
Perhaps,
As the scene was written
The ghosts within the mind of God
Asked for life,
And he let them free.
Maybe,
We itched with in his ear.
Or twined inside his being.
Pulling,
Begging,
To be.
But perhaps not.
Perhaps we were but silence,
Pregnant with potential.
A question ready to be asked.
A lesson waiting for the right
Scholars interpretation
And that was He.
Maybe…

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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The Weight of Me

As the weight of me grew,
I found myself stepping
On dreams
Braking them to shards.
Dancing on the glittering
Fragments
Of loss.
 
They couldn’t support me anymore.
 
As the weight of me grew,
I found I could push,
Pull,
Cary,
Loads that dwarfed others.
 
I didn’t always need help.
 
As the weight of me grew,
I gained,
I lost,
I changed,
Paying the cost of filling.
 
Often hungry for more.
 
As the weight if me grew,
I knew I would burst.
Self saturation
Dragging me down.
Stagnant strength.
 
I was lost in my own veins.
 
As the weight of me grew,
Swollen limbs restricted.
Forced to sit still
In filth
Unsated want.
 
I had, had enough of self.
 
As the weight if me dripped,
I raged.
Sweating,
Cursing,
Hurling up bits.
 
They had turned to poison.
 
As the weight of me balanced,
I was shame.
Until it rained,
Washing clean my ruin.
Revealing empty skin.
 
Hunger lingered on.
 
Longing to fill sagging emptiness.
Hunting purpose.
Seeking strength I once owned.
Still,
Leery of gorging on self.
 
I still remember that slow poison.
 
Then you took my hand
And the weight of me
Felt weak.
So,
You gave me a drink.
 
Homely soup for my soul.
 
It satisfied
And I shared myself too.
With crumbs of words,
A sprinkle of laughter,
We nourished each other.
 
And the weight of me found peace.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Six Word Story (76)

They are a comfort. They tell us someone took the time to fix us up. Sometimes, they come with a kiss.

Bandaid, we wish they could fix everything, don’t we? We run around slapping them on every scrap and bruise like a three-year-old. But in reality, they are not always enough. They can hide the real problem.

Don’t let a bandaid fix keep you from healing. But also, hold dear every kiss they come with.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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