A poem: Sprout to Stars

This season recalls the principle of great, cosmic reality being revealed by the seemingly insignificant piece. Some have been mindful of key details (persons) when most of us have passed over them. Holidays bring added details with obligations to rush through; or we could take time to appreciate what many have no time for. We stand to gain more than we yet imagine by stopping and allowing new perception to dawn in us.

At this time
The clamor rests awhile
And breathing slows to give up
Just a pause and make
The pressures wait a night,
Perceive a music in the stars.


Someone in the crowds
Found a corner
Where she had labor,
Her worried husband helped
The child exit, enter

 "Sprout to Stars" mixed media by
Mark Turner, 2015. (See larger view HERE.)

Into good soil.


We, oblivious,
Taken up with pressing things,
Pursuing world affairs,
Let seeds sprout as they may,
One no more important
Than the next.


That One unknown
Rose slowly through the soil
Midst trampling,
Drought,
Consuming browsers
And blossomed.


So that, far away now,
Nothing quenches
Spreading, verdant foliage
Planted long ago
Upon a corner no one watched
Except some laborers
Pausing for the music
In the sky.

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Mark R. Turner

Artist/Writer/Filmmaker

http://horizongate.com

What to do?

This poem was shared by Patrick, a reader in Rhode Island.  Words can hurt.

What to do on a day like this?
What to do when you hear the whispers?
Hear your name buzz uncomfortably through the halls
Do you listen ?
Or do you choose to ignore the lies and rumors that slowly dishevel ones esteem?
We are fragile people
Though some may come across jagged and hard
Those are the ones that are shattered and empty
Those words that we try to deflect sink deep into our bodies like a wound that has scarred.
Each scar we obtain leaves a reminder of a fault or flaw.