Posts Tagged ‘light’


Late at night

after she washes her face

and slips from her dress


she becomes a teardrop

quaking with grief

on the tip of God’s tongue.


But there —

see how the light

shines through.



©  2018  Betty Hayes Albright 


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Hades evicts

the broken-winged crow

yet there is no heaven

for one who can’t fly,

thus grounded he guides

the quest of the seeker

bidding us follow

his skittering hop

on a path with no sides

through the wild release

in the breach

between shadow

and light.



(c)  1995,  2018  Betty Hayes Albright



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We leave our warm houses

and walk the long path

to the meadow, where shadows

are caught in mid-freeze


and stillness becomes us,

a breath in the thickets

a widening of eyes

the gentle padding of time.


And from the trees

rays of sun

splay through dark branches

and land at our feet


as we raise up our arms

to welcome the moment

when light reacquaints us

with Light.



(c) 2003, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post, revised)


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prism from Pixaby


Polish clean

your cutting rocks

my jagged stones

till dawn reveals




(c)  1993, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


(A re-post. Image from Pixaby)


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Love can be

a thousand swifting years

spread out

like water colors

through the pastel pleating

of a weathered paper fan.


Or love can be

that brief intense

lightning fanned

to consummation

by the hungry edges

of a thousand swifting dreams.


When someday

they fold her up

and tuck her fast away

it’s that flash of light

she won’t forget.


©  2013, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-post, rewritten)


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Is grief a particle

or a wave

that washes over


the speed of light

bending space around

our massive loss?


Or is it just

the parenthetic spark

in an equation


the final proof

that love

connects us all?


©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 


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She feels the golden stand

between her palms,

follows every curve

with fingers

searching for the essence

of a splintered block of tree

as he spun and shaped it

on his lathe,

then polished gently

with his sacred oil.


Now she lights the candle

and watches

as the blush of flame

smooths up the walls

inside her heart

and out into the night.

She muses on a memory

and wonders

if he’ll ever know

how his soul-fire

lit her world

and turned the sky

a warmer shade of light.


© 2013, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright

(a re-post)


Candle holder in photo created by the DutchMan.


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storm photo from Jason

photo (c) Jason T. Judd


.Have you felt

the torrent coming

churning in your marrow

from the very nuclei

deep within your cells?

It bursts into a howling, spinning,

flooding storm of waves

crashing so hard

on the rocks

that sparks fly,

the wind flames

with tongues of heat

that reach the sun

hungry, licking, feeding,

until there’s nothing left

but a belly full of light.


© 2001, 2015 Betty Hayes Albright


Photo taken by my son, Jason Judd,

as he flew over New Mexico recently.

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(written for my young sons in 1979)


Children, lay your presents down,

come look and see what I just found –

a tree outside all flocked in snow

that doesn’t need a wire to glow;

playful squirrels – the romping kind

that you never have to wind.

A snowman’s outside every home,

not one is made of Styrofoam.

There’s peace and quiet for your heart

not found inside a shopping cart,

and living color in a smile

that’s brought to you without a dial. *

The wind is singing up the street

to rosy cheeks and dancing feet,

to easy laughter, mellow sighs,

whispering of the grand surprise

that comes on winter’s longest night –

the promise of returning Light.

So children, lay your presents down,

behold the gift that Love has found.


© 1979, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright


* Waaay back in the late 60’s and early 70’s, certain t.v. shows were “brought to you in living color” (as opposed to the more common black and white) – on televisions that still had dials. Funny – seems so antiquated now.


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We leave our warm houses,

walk the long path

to the meadow

where shadows

catch in mid-freeze.

The stillness becomes us –

a breath in the thickets,

a widening of eyes,

the gentle padding of time.

From the trees come whispered

ribbons of sun

weaving through the branches

to find us waiting

our arms raised high

in praise of this day

when light reacquaints us

with Light.


(c) 2003, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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