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Posts Tagged ‘presence’

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Washing dishes and

longing out the window

at trees

when suddenly

the ends of the universe touch

like the tips of two wings

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and I’m there

at that center

where nothing exists

but a bubbly plate

and the clear hot water

rinsing it clean.

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©  2012, 2020 Betty Hayes Albright 

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Re-posted from 2015, previously titled “Clear”.

Also published in Skipping Stones in 2018.

This is a revised version — hopefully improved. 😊

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Eternity came calling

on me one day

with her childlike face

and her kind, ancient eyes.

She laughed at the way

I danced to the ticking

of a mere clock

and said in a voice

that tinkled like moon chimes,

 

“Come let me show you

the land of Right Now,

a place that’s free

from the chains of your time.

It’s a world where the sun

shines from truth’s eye

and the smile on my face

will fill you with peace.”

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I followed a minute

but then a loud whistle

stopped me in my tracks.

Tomorrow perhaps —

it was noon in the valley

and I would be late.

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I headed downhill

but turned to look back

at her beauty once more

and found she had vanished

into Everywhere.

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(c) 2020, 1969, 1965  Betty Hayes Albright

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Written in high school, 1965. Published in chapbook “Living Color”, 1976; previously posted here in 2014.

This is a newly revised version. I guess it’s about time! 😄

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Be there in our dreams, Love,

hold us in our waking,

be close when we dance with joy

and when our hearts are aching.

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Love, be in the gifts we give

and in those we receive,

be there when the white dove lights

and when he takes his leave.

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Be there when the tide comes in

and when it’s flowing out,

Love be near us in our faith

and nearer when we doubt.

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Be there when the moon is waxing,

stay close when it wanes,

Love, be in our song’s first measure

and its last refrain.

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(c) 2003, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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Wishing everyone a peaceful, hopeful, light-filled, New Year!

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There’s still a tender scar

from the cutting of your grave

two months ago.

No matter, you would say.

You’ve flown into the springtime

where you’re planting bright impatiens

in the shady spots of trees

and hanging popcorn fuchsias

from the limbs of everywhere.

You see a million colors:

bearded iris, bright petunias

shades of greenery

puffs of petals

bobbing in the sun.

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Back home I listen

to your favorite symphony.

The room fills with the scent of roses,

How’d you do that, Mom?  I ask.

No matter, you would laugh.

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©  2016  Betty Hayes Albright

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(This is for my mom who passed away peacefully on March 3rd at the age of 98.)

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