The Space Between

Jesus lives in-between the dark and the light.

Please be the bridge to take us there!

In the harsh glaring daylight,

Lives the judge,

And in the darkest night’s hidden corners,

The judged, who cower, lie in wait…

There’s another way, another time and space,

Created as the sun rises and sets,

Where beauty, joy and wonder weave themselves,

Into a magical playground,

Perfectly blending love and light,

Transforming darkness… 

In this space between.

-Gilda Patrica

 

 

 

Seasons of Love and Hope

God’s love cannot be held in any container,

But permeates out to touch us,

Pouring forth like sunlight.

 

Maybe we can’t always feel the warmth,

Directly on our skin,

As we do in the summer of our lives;

 

As the Summer sun warms us,

Like no other season.

 

There’s a million sad stories in the world,

Every one, to me, a thing of beauty;

Stories of our fragility and our humanity.

 

Somehow the Springing forth of new life,

Or new love, like the first bud from a Winter‘s thaw,

Will  always capture my hope and imagination.

 

The most beautiful gift a human does possess,

Is the power within, to keep loving,

  In spite of a Fall.

 

These are the stories I never grow weary,

 Of seeing or reading or hearing,

  Like an Adele love song.

Gilda Patricia

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/summer

 

 

Conscious Gratitude

Today, I stop, take notice,

And thank God for,

The gift of being AWARE.

 

Simply being conscious…

Of my hands that can write, touch, carry and hold,

My eyes that can see beauty, read, and connect with others,

My nose that allows me to breath in life…

Almost imperceptibly,

My feet which take me painlessly where I need to be,

My ears that hear beautiful music to brighten my day,

My voice which can speak my truth, express love, and pray…

For more gratitude.

 

So, whenever I’m fearful, frustrated, sad, or angry,

I choose gratitude, 

Life’s natural elixir,

And remedy for much unneeded, unnecessary, unwelcome pain.

 

The abilities I have are gifts,

Not a given.

Today, I will be consciously grateful,

Especially so, for the one most precious gift,

Life.

 

-Gilda Patricia

 

 

 

 

Fool’s Gold

Would you only,

Know a sunrise,

If it’s golden tones,

Were real nuggets,

Of gold?

Or a rainbow,

If it’s green hues,

Were cold, hard,

Dollar bills?

 

And if a thousand,

Sand dollars,

Were strewn,

Across the beach,

Glistening in the sun,

Like silver;

Would they need to be,

Susan B. Anthony,

To catch your eye?

 

The worth,

Of the stars,

The sky,

And the sea,

Is unknown,

To one,

Who’s heart is a sieve;

Merely panning the horizon,

For some “choice”commodity.

 

Surmising the only thing,

Of value (in the world),

Is that which,

Can be bought and sold,

 Sieves out,

All the beauty,

Wonder and awe, 

From my brain,

Replacing it instead…

 

With frozen little chunks of empty lies,

A life of real worth, devoid.

 

-Gilda Patricia