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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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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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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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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Six Word Story (79)

The fall to earth is never strait, or predictable.

For a while they hold fast, grow, preparing for the fall. A fall that’s inevitable.

We all fall.

I pray when I finally land, others will say I fell with grace.

And when I rest, it will be in fertile soil, in which to spread new roots.

©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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