Six Word Story (86)

Some say Mother Earth and Father Sun. If that is so, then I see Earth as the flirtatious one.

She dances through the nether in living finery of every shade.

I wonder what the rest of the galaxy thinks of her?

She is far from the most powerful. But she is a home, a place to rest.

She is neither tame nor safe. Even so, we cling to her for dear life, pressed to her bosom.

Father Sun is ever her constant companion, unmoving. He lets her dance. Ever patient.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Pristine Floor

I turned it over in my hand
This broken piece
Of self
Traced the cracks
Noted the gaps
Counted the missing particles
Now marking
A pristine floor

A broom passed by
Grabbing flecks that soiled
This hallowed place.

Its bristles shush
My shameful grief
Watching
In silence

I should have protested
asked for time
Told my story
Before
This piece of self
Crumbled
And I was left to mourn.

Alone
Or so perceived

Untill
Generous Silence
Gave them back to me
Cupped
In recognition
Bound tightly
With the string of memories
As I prayed

He gave no rebuke
As bits poured into my hands
Losing fragments
Between hesitant fingers
He helped me count the loss
That again littered marble paths
Highlighted against its wealth
As human filth

He waited
Cupping tears that spilled
Adding his own to the soiled floor
Besmirched in regrets as thick as aged blood

Patient
He shushed the onlookers
Ready to jeer the fallen

Then I was ready
He pulled each speck to himself
Dirtying his own hands to lift my loss
Into his apron furled
It was him who shook my remnant free
Of any last dust
It was my King who carried my shame
Out the door
And when returned
Knowing it no more

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Six Word Story (85)

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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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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Six Word Story (83)

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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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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Six Word Story (80)

Delicate. fragmenting under pressure.

Desiccated particles, all that remain.

Or…

An imprint that will last lifetimes.

A legacy.

A gift.

A life unforgettable.

We all leave imprints we are unaware of.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Six Word Story (78)

Young, still growing, still learning, still gaining strength. We call it a bud, but it is still a flower.

It guards itself until the day God whispers reaches it though natures script.

“Its time.”

Then, petal by petal, it opens. I wonder…

Does it hurt? Is there relief? Are there such things as introverted or extroverted flowers? Either way, we wait in anticipation for them to be ready.

People are a lot like buds…

Are you ready? Even if you’re not, you are still beautiful.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo Sourced from unspalsh.com


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Six Word Story (77)

Nothing gets done unless someone is willing to get their hands dirty.

In the western cultures we admire cleanliness, and the modern way of life. But underneath the white walls, and pavement, is the evidence of people who wheren’t afraid of a bit of dirt.

Art making is no different.

We paint, we sculpt, we gather, and glue. A writer creates a ‘dirty draft’ before shaving away exes prose and blowing the fragments into the waste bin at the back of the mind.

We can not remove the muck of ‘making’ from life.

It might be dirty, but it’s beautiful.

I, for one, am thankful that God himself was not afraid of the dirty work of making.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroeft

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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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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