angels

Under That Same Tree

~ Emma ~ 1 Comment

The pause is long enough to fit,
sixteen breaths, a yawn and a rush.
The breeze pushes to accelerate,
the steps of love, the mind is mush.

Approached with care, she sits
beside the woman with gray hair.
Calmer weather now, the love
has made its way into the air.

Listening and offering warmth
the only antidote for worry,
she watches the clouds as they pass
not one of them is in a hurry.

The loving soul who was there first,
took you under her wing and did,
what we are here to do and to be,
like family we all exist under that same tree.

Movement was a bit of a struggle,
so we called for more love
to come to our aid to provide some shade,
and it was a lovely cool break to lean on a new dove.

When we are entrenched inside the light,
we know and we see so brightly it shines,
from one to another, we swim in delight,
because without the braces it can be difficult to fight.

The energy will command you to slow,
even when you are blinded inside,
the flow – it has a way you know,
to send you messages in such a way, to abide.

One more step, one more breath,
there will always be love and change,
but we are nothing without breakage
and repair to remind us of our range.

Have thanks and gratitude for the gift
of your life. We came here in search
of a human experience and to broaden our light,
to soften the blows of those, and to uplift.

The trip was short we made it home,
with the help of the three wise men,
they brought love, kindness, compassion
and supplies to help us and for that, I give them a ten.

We are all under that same tree,
waiting, watching, listening,
loving, building, dreaming, singing,
dancing and laughing; it’s all that there is, you see?

Brave One

~ Emma

My love you can see and you can know.
I sat up all night thinking how is it so.
It doesn’t feel like much maybe, but I need you to know.
The way you are, the grit on your cheeks, the fear in your bones, the glass over your heart, it’s heavenly oh.

You aren’t the boy in the yard, or the lost one who is alone.
You have delicate ears, soft eyes, rough hands and a soul of stone.
The world has been bothersome and you chose beat over bone.
Beautiful and sweet, pure and kind, grasping to own.

The dust around your body, the particles placing you astray, just wash them away.
There’s a warmth, a cold, a warmth, a cold, just try and stay, just today, okay?
You are protected by the special ones, to that I am one, you can play.
Different shades, green and yellow, purple and black, no matter, they’re colours all the same, tones created from fray.

Lifting and moving, rolling and sliding you are more than tools, silt and trucks.
You are lightning and strength and sensitive forces inherited from the mucks.
The windows are always open you can choose what to breathe, it doesn’t have to suck.
Without the blocks there is nothing to know how to surrender to and survive… shucks.

The giving from your hand and the easy way you go, the wind sweeping into your nose, you appease.
I listen from all the way over here, I can hear the woe and the yearn to please.
The last time you spoke, it was a goodbye that will rest far out wide and down in the depths of many seas.

I will always be watching you, my eyes scan the valleys and search the caves.
Listen not to the ones who hold defence, who let compassion slide, who can’t see inside, who enjoy the rave.
Your tired mind, your stretched emotions, listen less to them, be brave.
The sparkle in your chest, you can rely and listen, you know what’s gone, and what you gave.

Cliff Figure

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

So, they say just start writing,
if you want to be a writer.
Write what comes, even what doesn’t, just do the thing.
I’m writing and writing and, life is getting brighter.

What else do you see when you think of me?
Are there rainbows, hearts, a flower?
My mind is full of special things, slice it open, want to see?
I told you, it’s like a forest full of explosive colour, it holds a power.

If you look long and with precision, you’ll see the edge of the cliff.
There’s someone standing there, on that edge, in my mind, watching the water below.
Holding out their hands in front of them, palms up, relaxed, calm, never stiff.
Who is it that stands there, it is not me, is it my foe?

Keep in touch with the feeling, the grip and the all knowing.
The wind is pushing you, but also holding you tightly away from ill move.
There is someone inside your mind too, who knows the song of the future, the flowing.
Listen to the one standing on the cliff, directing the improve.

I am told to write by mine, she is telling me with great confidence, to fly.
She is much more delicate, soft and sure now, she see’s something I cannot just yet.
I trust her, she stands strong on that edge, the waves crashing below, she knows why.
The tide doesn’t sway her, the breeze won’t move her, she is free from fret.

What an angel she appears to be, I wish you all could see.
The way her words direct my desires, I am grateful for such a wondrous companion.
The girl on the edge of the cliff in my mind, gazing, she is totally free.
She will never leave, she is here forever, I can always find her, she will not abandon.

What does your companion say, standing on the edge in the mind of you?
How steep is your cliff, how high is your tide, what sounds do the waves make today?
I understand the reservation, the uncertainty and the questioning of who.
You can put all of your faith in that figure, they will always hold at bay.

The figures all stand strong, even amidst mighty storms.
The wavering of thoughts, the flickering of flame.  
I have always listened, always believed and neglected the thorns.
The conversation we had of late, eliminated all of the blame.

You are stronger in sight today, I see and feel you clearer.
The guardian figure of my mind on that cliff, steering me nearer.
Nearer and closer, harder and faster, she knows where to send me.
Off to the races I go, trusting in the shadows and in the light, it is, most definitely,
to be.