Six Word Story (99)

The amazing intricacy of the world we live in is staggering.

The science, the art, the spiritual glue, it all connects and rolls together to the ticking of seconds.

It can seem eternal. As our brains measure time, maybe it is.

I do believe that someday there will be an end and time will run out, just as water evaporates from a cup.

But as evaporation is a kind of transformation, our earth, and us, will not really cease but simply change.

I believe God is the one who wrote the rules for these systems as he creates art.

What will he have us change into when the time comes?

I don’t know. But I can dream.

Copyright ©2023 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Six Word Story (98)

What sticks to you like glitter?

What small thing gives you a smile in it unexpectedly glints at you from a tabletop, or child’s cheek?

What makes you groan with annoyance when dumped in a pile, hang hangs around for months only to bring a tear to your eye when you remember that sweet soul you miss?

Glitter, I often don’t like you, but many are the things you can teach me.

Copyright ©2023 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Six Word Story (97)

Life is a grinding down of moments, of mass.

Nature takes those fragments and transforms them into something new.

This happens with people too, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

It’s so hard to see past the decay, the destruction.

But if we are brave enough to try, if we trust God has a plan in the middle of grief, we will be shown immeasurable beauty and potential.

He made nature this way for a reason after all.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Titles available by Mary Grace van der Kroef

December Night

Mantle of lights above my head
fixed on a map of midnight blue
shining silver blue and red
so close, yet eons overhead.

They only wink with my own blink
a steady stream of glistening
shining bright, yet light, I see
is all ancient history.

A vastness more than mind can hold
yet I behold December’s night
stand on my globe of living rock
that spins with the celestial clock.

Count the numbers, multiply,
as the universe flies by,
here I stand a single speck
in heaven’s sum.

December night, clear, bright,
gifted glimpse of creations might
never a doubt in my mind
stargazing, meant to remind.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020


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Available titles by Mary Grace van der Kroef.

Six Word Story (90)

In my experience, life rarely unfolds in a straight line, or how we expect it to.

We wonder back and forth while wondering if there is a purpose to it all, and when will we ‘arrive’.

I have also noticed that the paths my elders have walked, have laid down pathways.

They make the back and forth a bit easier to bear. They assure me that others have walked this way ahead of me.

Even when I walk off the beaten path, it reminds me that my own footsteps are marking possibilities trails for those who journey behind me.

When I look down the steep hillside, I am thankful for all that back and forth.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from Unsplash.com

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Titles by Mary Grace van der Kroef

Six Word Story (89)

Was it an earth tremor, or children that climbed the wall day after day, waking its lines high above their word, dreaming of possibilities?

Was it the steady drip of rain that pooled in a crevice, then froze night after night, expanding, pushing the bricks, forming a hairline crack?

Was it overlooked?

Was there someone there to notice as the crack widened, allowing more and more water to pervade its strength?

There is no evil in the steady flow of time, or rain. Nor is it wrong for children to chase dreams. Life wares.

But, even strength needs to be maintained, supported, and repaired.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Six Word Story (88)

How does the environment affect our perception of the world?

Weather we want to admit it or not, it often plays a key role. This can be a good or bad thing.

Awareness.

Boundaries.

Bravery, to face the things we can not change.

Understanding we are also part of the environment, and we touch others just as they touch us.

Knowing our perception doesn’t always equal truth, but is still an important part of understanding.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Six Word Story (87)

Sundown, a time of glorious beauty. An ending.

Endings can feel so scary, final, even deflating. But they are also a time of transition. Where one thing ends, something else begins.

I wonder if that is why God placed so many circular patterns within creation.

To give humanity hope that where we end, he continues.

Where life ends, it also begins.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Growth

Today I share my reading of the poem ‘Growth’ with all of you.

‘Growth’ is one of the 36 poems in my new poetry collection, ‘Words of Weight’. Now available at Amazon as an ebook and paperback book. Or barrow it with the Kindle Unlimited program.

If you have read my new book, please consider leaving an honest review. Each one is important regardless of star value, and we appreciate each one.

(Review on Amazon or Goodreads)

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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