O Sacred Sea
©2024 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by Yoann Boyer on Unsplash
Life is a sea –
an ever-changing flow,
awash in sights and sounds
we come to know,
our spirits free.
Life is a sea –
an ever-changing flow,
awash in sights and sounds
we come to know,
our spirits free.
Brokenness heals –
cracks wide our throbbing doors –
lets go, lets God,
lets out the flood that pours
from swollen skies.
My self-portrait, if made today,
would be on paper, not in clay.
An abstract, puzzling my eyes
in shapes I strain to recognize.
The week before Christmas, I wait at the post office,
mailing one last, precious thing.
The line isn’t quite out the door, but it’s close,
and our holiday mood’s taken wing.
It’s up to me to live my days
in sunlit hues or shady haze.
Though circumstance vies for control,
I chart the weather in my soul.
It pains my heart to put the stuff
of childhood away.
Is there a thing more sad, more bittersweet
than moving day?
Six years without you, my mind’s eye
settles upon your vacant place.
It’s harder now to summon sights of you
to fill the empty space.
Age is the proof of the pudding in love.
I know for a fact this is true.
The years are the heat and the steam and the pressure
that set well or turn into glue.