moonlight mends by stitching together the torn edge of the wor.d
Let the snow roll over in my dreams,
Let the shore be cast away in my sea,
Let the stage take my fall away,
Let the path take me walking along the way.
The last dawn does not wait for the final dusk,
The last walk for the unknown stride,
The least is the unknown slavery,
The feast is for this tidy courage.
Where I step, I step twice,
Once for myself and another for the Silence.
I worship my Silence along the sidewalk,
I never truly believe in the communion.
Let me clear my voice,
Sleeping is the unseen lavishness,
Running towards the maze is my labyrinth,
Going to be heard in silence and not to be unseen.
Ignore the path that is not yours,
Align with the thought that causes you to walk alone,
Aloneness is the road that diverged in the wood,
The two-forked road that mends my decisions.
When you are broken
And it feels like a thousand pieces
Have been broken in your heart
Know that God is with you
And has been from the start
When you loose some one
The Lord mends our broken heart
God brings comfort and peace and joy
23 hours after loosing a loved one
God blessed me with a baby boy
Not to replace tgem but to bring
Comfort
will always miss our loved ones
No matter how much time
Passes by
But God never will forsake us
He is there every step of the way
Never leaving us alone
No matter how long it takes to heal
He understands just how we feel. AMEN
30 years ago my son was born
30 years ago my father died.
God heals Amen
A song I like is titled
Broken vessels by hillsong
Tie Dye in July
Like Phulkari women in July
I dye the plain days
then stitch gold flowers where the sun burned me
Like dyeing fabric with turmeric indigo and madder root
I carved yellow joy under the amaltas bench forever
Singing while embroidering with messy thread on the floor
Summer heat reminds me of sorrow
curved in black thread of thorn
With wounded fingers I make the woman
who wore burning coal on her feet
The vibrant red reflects my emotions
and love for my past life
Then I turn to another phase
when shibori binds me in July heat
sashiko mends me with white thread
tie the chaos stitch the light back in
Every color blends and comes together
like a rainbow after rain
Memories are crafted with grey ash
and sometimes with vibrant amber
Healing and wounded
like a storm stuck in a heaven star
I wore my longing like a coat.
Kept the sharpest words in my throat.
I leaned in close; the blues just knew,
I would let them bent notes come through.
Bare boards beckoned worn-out shoes.
Slow feet shuffled with the dues.
One heel circled, one stood still,
As the lights turned round like a windmill.
While the dye brush waited by the wall,
I heard the blank canvas start to call.
I held back each splash just enough,
To leave a white whisper, in the rough.
I let my feelings rise up halfway,
Enough to ache; then to fade away.
My heart was folded, tied up with care,
To glow with all that is left hidden there.
The blue kept curling into the white,
Like the Milky Way deep in a velvet night.
The spiral nebulae all slowly grew—
To tie-dye the sky, with an ancient hue.
The tighter the bind, the brighter the bloom.
Stars need darkness, to brighten their room.
Hold back the colour—let just enough take flight.
Raindrops can teach sunlight to shape its light.
When the last slow glow chorus ends,
Twilight mends what that daylight bends.
One lone blue spark escapes the seam,
Just far enough to light the dream.
To help out friends, it never hurts;
a salve that comforts and diverts
their pain with hope it heals and mends.
It never hurts to help out friends.
Lifting their cheer by words or deeds
that help those downed with woeful needs.
A little kindness will endear
by words or deeds, lifting their cheer.
With heartfelt calm, we'll soothe their souls.
Warm, loving acts can soon extol
that thoughtful kindness is the balm.
We'll soothe their souls with heartfelt calm.
Kind acts are blessed, both large and small
and, for some time, can please, enthrall.
Lift heavy loads for those distressed.
Both large and small, kind acts are blessed.
Inside this painted room
the lamplight pools like honey on the floorboards,
softening every corner into a place
where the world cannot intrude.
A kettle hums its small, steady song,
and the window holds a square of winter
like a memory pressed behind glass.
The colors breathe warmth
reds deep as hearth embers,
yellows that feel like held hands,
browns worn smooth by years of belonging.
Even the shadows seem gentle here,
as if they’ve learned to rest
instead of reaching for anything.
A chair waits by the fire
stitched with the quiet patience
of someone who mends more than fabric.
A book lies open on the armrest,
its pages curved like a sigh,
as though the reader stepped out
only long enough to feed the birds.
Holodook’s world holds stillness
the kind that remembers
how to cradle a life gently~
a place where nothing is hurried,
where warmth is not a luxury
but a way of seeing.
Inside this cozy, painted room,
even the silence feels like home.
ink mends quiet wounds
words gather the broken light~
writing makes us whole
I yearn to hear your soft footfalls
Come drifting down the hall,
To feel you curling up for warmth
Beside me, to hearten and enthrall.
No saucer waited by the sink.
No fur strands upon my chair.
No yellow eyes to taunt and slink,
From shadows near the stair.
I miss your slow forgiving purr.
That mends my broken day.
The quiet weight upon my bed.
That keeps the lonely dark away.
No shredded curtains by the door.
No gifts of prey upon the shelf.
No arrogant violin-string wails,
To pull me free from myself.
I never learned your secret moods.
Your flashes of offended grace.
The language spoken without words,
Inside a cute, cocky whiskered face.
No one is to share my grief,
As I post yet another 'Want Ad'.
Which says it all, really!
Suadade 'tis the cat I never had!
There once was a fairy of light,
Who stitched broken stars through the night.
She danced where hearts grieved,
And taught souls deceived
That love still returns after flight.
Beneath silver wings dipped in blue,
She gathered lost dreams that once flew.
From tears left unsaid,
She bloomed roses instead—
And whispered, “The dawn waits for you.”
Though forests grow silent with pain,
And memories fall down like rain,
Her luminous art
Mends each shattered heart—
And makes hope feel alive once again.
The heart
it feels all pain
bends in all directions
mends it's way back into a form
lasting
Walk with me holding hands in forest green
Breathing in the jasmine wind
Like blue jay’s song soul sings
Psalm that lift hearts to heaven where love mends
Curing cabin fever mountain a fountain free
Flowing glowing where love and nature blend
Together united so peacefully
Butterflies dotting blue sky
Living fulfilling wildest dreams gleefully
Making memories to treasure for life
Keeping us warm even when cold
On one knee asking to be my wife
For you complete my longing soul
Anywhere you are I want to go
A heart that breaks in silence wears the brightest, widest smile,
She walks a thousand lonely steps to go the extra mile.
A pillar made of glass and grace, she holds the world upright,
While tucking all her own dark storms away from public sight.
She mends the wings of others though she cannot even fly,
And catches every falling tear with no one asking why.
They rest within her steady hand and take what she can give,
They love the strength she offers them, but not the life she lives.
For though she acts the mountain, she is crumbling from the strain,
A masterpiece of hidden cracks, a soft and silent rain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A stranger buys coffee for the man
whose hands tremble counting pennies~
the warmth lingers past the last sip,
carrying him to the bus stop,
where he lifts a suitcase
for the woman balancing an infant.
She smiles all the way home,
slices extra sandwiches
for the neighbor’s kids
whose mother works doubles.
The neighbor, grateful,
mends the fence
for the old widow next door,
who now tends her garden
with less ache in her knees.
Months later,
the same stranger
finds his tire changed
in the rain
by hands he doesn’t recognize—
but the rhythm of kindness
is familiar.
Accompanying memoir vignettes can be found at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/an_angel_in_blue_scrubs_13589
or
poetrysoup.com/short_stories/the_poor_little_matchstick_girl_13580
In the quiet dawn, hope softly sings,
Gently rising on golden wings.
Through shadows long and worries deep,
Hope whispers strong, when we cannot sleep.
Rhythm of heartbeats, steady and bold,
Carries the promise, stories retold.
Clouds may gather, storms may roar,
Still hope dances on, forevermore.
A flicker of light in darkest night,
Guiding us gently toward what’s right.
Step by step, as day unfolds,
Hope is the rhythm our spirit holds.
So when the world feels heavy and gray,
Let hope’s rhythm lead the way.
For as long as dreams are born anew,
Hope will always carry us through.
From silent tears and trembling hands,
To smiling hearts in distant lands,
Hope bridges gaps, mends what’s torn,
Shows us the dawn where light is born.
The gentle touch of morning air,
The laughter shared, the silent prayer,
Hope weaves its magic, soft and clear,
Turning our doubt to trust, sincere.
No matter how the night may fall,
Or fears arise, or sorrows call,
Hope lifts us up, renews our view,
A melody timeless, pure and true.
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