For The Sunday Muse prompt #123: ** Even in the darkness the beauty of lent light shines through, the golden petals of the sunflowers magnificent as they follow the sun. Beauty, hitherto hidden, is called out by the sharing of the light, the sum of its parts many times more brilliant than when it hides alone.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #122: ** We have carried our bodies to a far country, the weight of the burden of the duty of sons driving us like a ship heave-hoing in a stormy gale to the place where our kin were brought before. Each day we toil amongst the living to save the ones we hurt by leaving, the labour of our bent backs a libation poured on dry earth, to appease the spirits of the old ones. This is our penance, a prayer sung to the tune of the songs handed down. ...
For The Sunday Muse prompt #121. After Emily Dickinson. ** Hope is the thing that shimmers in the distance the faint light flickering in the brooding stillness of the afternoon heat, the persistent promise that this thirst, this longing for restoring will be sated by rain. It is the pulse quickening with the lengthening shadows of evening and the return of familiar sights to the eyes. It is home calling the lost son to return to the dangerous duty of tending.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #120, and B who in (wo)manfully wrestling pain to a standstill reminds us to hope again… ** Remember, in the failing light of falling night, when the weight of the world feels like a thing around your neck, that we see you, proud against the night- feet planted firmly in the mushy earth, unflinching in the maelstrom. Like the North Star sometimes hidden, sometimes peering out from behind the clouds, a beacon showing home we see you and believe again.
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #119, Artistic Photography Dreamlike Portrait Photography by Damien Casals: ** You and I are becoming one, our unspoken words a voice, mellow in its timbre, its echo light like a soft hand yet firm, kneading out the noise from the silence that we share. In that silence of being and being present, of returning and reforming, of holding out against the pressure of the world, are broken things becoming whole again, each breath a small victory won by persistence, a fresh shoot pushing its way through the things that rage has razed.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #118: ** In the chaos of water meeting water and breaking free, each splash a hop of joy freed to twirl and twist and kick and be, a body bent fluidly flowing like a shout of delirious joy, life echoes.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #117: ** Breathe, in spite of beauty, in spite of the frailty of the blue orb floating free beneath your feet, stunning you. Breathe, because of beauty because the earth hugs you like a mother tethers her unborn child fragile in its parts guiding, calling, growing feeding. Breathe, because home centres you because wherever you are times and seasons are locked in an eternal dance Breathe, because.
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #116. Image “Seeing Black & White” photography by Susie Clevenger ** Yesterday’s ghouls are slowly disappearing, fading like the night light once bright but now dappled, wisps of grey carried away in our slipstream, lingering like the dust a knight’s steed leaves in the frenzy of flight. But the promise is a mirage, objects in a mirror are closer than they appear and though we run as though the wind bears us, yesterday’s shadow lurks in the space between the things we leave and the things that disappear
For the Poetic Asides prompt 530 Where You Are, Photo by Reiseuhu on Unsplash ** Here the sun hangs like a weight its heat like a curtain, dense, wrapped around itself like thick clouds keeping out the light. Dust clouds swirl around hardy rocks, each peak a monument to defiance, to aeons of resistance, to heads held high against the ravages of earth, sand and time. For a season this, this barren space which survives against the odds is home, reluctant as it may be
For The Sunday Muse prompt #115: ** Let the first sniff hit you, let the faint hint of the juice pressed and aged be like incense wafting up, a prayer to Dionysius for a blessing on this rich red liquid, chilled, swirled and sipped. Let the low heat linger, let its essence slowly spread, warming the insides of your mouth let its heft spread like a warm embrace across your tongue. Let it rise Let it rise.