Poems From The Porch
photo by Craig Cooper on Unsplash.com
The first glimpse of winter frost
looks magical to warm Southern eyes.
The twinkling sparkles appear only briefly,
innocently melting away
with the first farewell kiss of the sun.
There is a brave patch of vibrant green
making a showing under the gardenia bushes
in anticipation of the far off Spring.
How bold, how audacious
to bloom before its time,
like Copernicus and Bohm
and even Mary Magdalene,
who most likely would have been
counted among the twelve
had Jesus been born today.
I did not show up before my time,
except by Southern standards.
Risk after risk taken
and plenty of buds showing
but fear of disapproval frequently stopped a full bloom.
I feel a change coming, though
and self-permission to
take the most important risk.
It is the willingness to invest in self-affirmation,
to be completely for my own unfolding,
to unashamedly show up as myself.
Not everyone deals with this issue.
There are plenty who say,
“Take me or leave me, but this is who I am,”
and they mean it,
they live it,
sometimes they even shout it,
and I admire them for their unapologetic stance.
That is not my lot, though.
I haven’t had the guts to
overtly give anyone that choice.
Of course, the choice is inherent in any relationship
and has been made by everyone
I’ve encountered for all of my life.
But to daringly stand in my truth,
well, there have been pivotal moments
of which I am proud,
yet there is part of me that
longs for something more.
All that said, I feel it now
and I embrace it,
the invitation to be real.
And I guess there is a ripening that is necessary—
nothing is really before its time.
Copernicus and Bohm—right on time,
and I suppose the lime-colored grass
under the gardenia bushes is
embodying its own promptness.
A moment ago, there was a cardinal in the bare crepe myrtle.
I would not have seen it
if I hadn’t looked up just then.
Funny thing, timing.