Beauty

Looking for beauty—

Amidst mounds of laundry, dirty floors and the peace-stealing noise of a football game.

I need a story, I need a song; a small handful of beauty is all I seek; enough to get me through today.

Eyes graze paints—blank canvas. Hands are itching to fill it with color, but I am not ready. Sketches still in my head, ideas incomplete.

So I turn away.

This unanswered call for beauty pounds in my head, places bitter words on my tongue, ready to fall should the opportunity arise.

Alone. I need to be.

I escape to the quiet.

Laundry undone. Floors still chunky. The question of dinner niggling.

These things must wait. The world must stop.

For if I don’t find a small piece of beauty, I might start crying and not be able to stop.

Then I see it.

This old book.

Untouched since college days. Days before children and husband and regular meals.

These dead poets call out to me.

I run my fingers through the onion skin pages.

This is the beauty that I grasp.

I inhale it with my eyes.

It nourishes me, the breath of life.

Beauty:


To the Evening Star by William Blake


Thou fair-hair’d angel of the evening, Now, while the sun rests on the mountains, light

Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown

Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!

Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the

Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew

On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes

In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on

The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,

And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,

Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,

And the lion glares thro’ the dun forest:

The fleeces of our flocks are cover’d with

They sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.

I look out the window and see the blue curtains of the sky being drawn.

Silver dew beginning to condense on shimmery leaves.

The moon—a tiny sliver cresting over the trees.

I see beauty everywhere.

I see the beauty of my life.

These words have the power to open my eyes, to renew my heart.

As silver moonsickle rises, I am thinking not of Blake’s Evening Star. It is the beauty of my bright Morning Star that makes me weep.

Beauty. He has sprinkled it everywhere.

Sometimes, I forget.

These eyes need the scales stripped away. Sometimes it takes an old dead poet, or a song, perhaps a story to remind me how beautiful He is.

“I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.” –Rev. 22:16

Comments

  1. says

    My oldest son Matthew would love this poem….Just yesterday he shared with me a quote from a song he likes…You may have already heard it, but if not, I think that you would like it too.

    “The shadow proves the sunshine.” 🙂

    He has been challenged by several non-believing teens that ask the inevitable questions, like,”If God exists, then why are babies killed?”…stuff like that….And he likes to answer them with that statement. It packs a punch with few words, amen?:)

    I put your list on the frig, by the way….Thanks for that list of reminders in your previous post.

    God Bless,
    Amy:)

  2. says

    You write what my heart so often longs for. Beautifully said, friend. I would highly recommend you getting Alicia Chole’s book “Anonymous”. She is one of the best writers of our generation and given your need for words (I share the same affinity), I feel confident you would be swept away by any of her material.

    I would love to hear from you (when you have time) how you approach the writing process and putting a blog together. Today was a very painful and arduous post for me…so much so I wonder about how much longer I can keep this up. Any thoughts?

    peace~elaine

  3. says

    Oh friend, that was SO beautiful as usual….

    Love your heart…..

    You are a treasure to my heart….

    Love & Hugs to you,
    Julie

    PS. I 2nd Elaine’s suggestion. I am reading Anonymous now and I LOVE it. I think you would too. Let me know if you pick it up. I feel another post stirring in my from my reading today in that book but didn’t have time to get it out on paper….
    maybe tomorrow….

  4. says

    “These things must wait. The world must stop.” This in itself is such a valuable lesson. Think of what you would have missed if you hadn’t allowed yourself this freedom.
    Thanks for the reminder!
    And thanks for stopping by the other day… been real busy, but always appreciate your words. I see His beauty in you!
    shanda

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