The wind, it rustles the leaves
Of that cottonwood,
The one where I buried you
In cold, hard ground
Away from those you loved.

The snow, it covers your tomb,
But I still come to stand
Over you,
Watching robins
On branches above, twitter and sing.

The sun,
It beats down
Scorching the earth
That covers you,
Baking the sod.

But still I come,
And stand over you,
And speak in low whispers
Telling you about the kids.
And how they’ve grown.
Asking you to tell me
What it’s like where you are.

Is it wonderful?
Remarkable, dazzling?
Majestic beyond words? 
When can I come and join you?
My heart is there already.
I have no words to describe
My sorrow that life went on
Without you. 

Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright September 2005 – All Rights Reserved

You know how sometimes words just come spilling out of your pen like ink from an upturned inkwell? Well, I had some sort of epiphany tonight. These words came spilling out and so I was faithful to write them down. After all, I had promised. 
So I wrote them down. Then went and had a good cry, took a deep breath and proceeded forward on life’s journey.

Moments of clarity come
And I see my life
Like whitewash
On a weathered fencepost.
Fading for all
The world to see
Beaten by winds of time
Pounded by storms.

I see my life
Ebbing away
Into a darkened distance
Away, into the wild blue yonder.
It rides a great wave
Into a blinding horizon
And becomes as nothingness
Disappearing forever.

I see frogs and creatures
Animated and wild
Taking over the rhythm
Of it.
I see frayed edges
Of torn silken garments
Like crystal in twilight
Or gilded rainbow.

I weep pure tears,
Tears of disdain
Of anger and madness
Of entreaty 
Moments better left unsaid
Or gratefully forgotten
Moments of clarity
When one sees eternity.

When one drowns
In all that is holy and frail
Lasting, yet brief
When one yields

To the Great and Awesome Maker Himself.

Carolyn L. Sorrell - Copyright Sept 2001 – All Rights Reserved

He rumbles across fields of lilies   Without breaking a one
He approaches—Immaculate!
This Nomad of ancient millennia
This Wayfarer, this Vagabond
This Creator and Owner   Of all that He sees.
This Treasure and abundant reserve
Of all that is lovely and true,
Precious beyond the gold.
Extraordinary above all gems
 Found and not found
 From Time’s beginning.
Innocent a great ways past  All babies born forever,
Mysterious in excel sis
Superior to the vast accumulation  Of mankind’s great thinkers,
Philosophers, statesmen and warriors.
Resting atop white steed,  His Light emanates,
To distant Galaxies…At last, He dismounts.
The earth is still now.
It recognizes its Creator  And trembles at the pressure
Of Precious feet upon green earth.
He stands alone
And yet far from it
For a great host of Angelic Beings  Gathers around him; invisible for now.
When Darkness encroaches  Upon their position
The mere force of his breath  Scatters the enemy.
Time and nature Stand still for Him,
This Being Immortal  The Essence of all Good.
Alpha and Omega
The Beginning and the End--

Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright© 1998 – All Rights Reserved