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~ Linda R Davis, Raven of Peace & Poetry

Bits of Poetry

Tag Archives: Miracles

Out of Our Hands

24 Saturday Jul 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Hope, Letting Go, Life, Loss, Love, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Survival, The Universe

The universe told me
Our hands are empty,
They do not contain miracles
Or, even wise words.
Moment by moment,
Only moments,
The brokenness of hearts,
A temporary rise to our feet,
As if to help,
but we didn’t–Did we?
Because our hands are empty.

A Hideous Brightness

13 Sunday Jun 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Belief, Death, Death Poems, drought, Dying, God, Heat, Hope, Horse Poem, Horse Poems, Horse poetry, Horses, Life, Loss, Love, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Sacred, Sun, Survival, weeds

Drought year,

Everything is dying early.

We realize what is hearty,

And what is not.

Weeds, they multiply,

Even after we spray,

As if they know,

This is their time.

They sink taproots,

And suckle what is left

Of underground aquifers.

We’re breaking heat records in June;

The sweltering, unrelenting sun

Is just getting started.

How many trips to the barn,

Down this cackling road?

The day I saw the barn cat

Kill father Robin–

It was an ominous sign

For the foal.

And then I succumbed

To this hackling cough.

Death is a time for prayer,

Calling out

for whatever hope God can spare.

Cries sent, not into a dark night,

But a hideous brightness.

Waiting On Miracles

13 Sunday Jun 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Death, Death Poems, Dying, Fear, Fear of Death, Hope, Horses, Life, Loss, Love, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Souls, Survival, Yearning

When death gets a foothold,

You don’t know who it will take.

Souls grow heavy with guilt,

And the weight of silence.

Hope, a fragile light;

It fuels us.

Small, but mighty.

We wait for miracles;

They are fickle things,

Miracles.

A Miracle of Mended Bone

23 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Coffin Bone, Cowboy, Desperation, God, Gods, Horses, Lame, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Prayer, Survival

If you don’t have a hoof,
you don’t have a horse
.
He was dead lame,
broken coffin bone,
leg extended out in pain,
as if imploring me to mend
his severed part.
Heart of my heart,
I can only offer prayer,
to the gods who love horses,
as much as we love gods to care.

Room 19, Code Blue

25 Thursday Sep 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Code Blue, Death, Emergency Room, Fear of Death, Hospitals, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Surgery

Immediate resuscitation required.
Sorrow begins in the pharynx,
Descends to the heart and lungs,
Or so you think, because it hurts,
Then, you’re bawling.
You’re sure they announced,
Room nineteen, Code Blue,
Watched enough ER to know
He must be dead or dying.
But then you think,
Because you can’t believe,
Really, such tragedies happen to yours,
Maybe Code Blue means something else,
Like, Get here fast and help,
And, as you start to console yourself,
Convince yourself you were wrong,
The nurse returns to where you sit,
Tells you it was a different Room 19,
A different person in Code Blue,
And you’re relieved,
Utterly relieved, and free.
Until today,
When you begin to wonder
If someday, someone will be relieved
You’re the one in Room 19, Code Blue,
Rather than their own,
Precious, little boy.

The Stricken Ones

26 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Canada Geese, Cancer, Death, Infinite, Melanoma, Mercy, Miracles, Poem, Poems, Poetry

I remember what it was like
To be unstricken,
To think my life would go on,
To think I was owed a spot here,
And that spot was permanent.

Once your body lets the thing
Grow, you understand something else,
That mercy comes in miracles:

The Canada Geese overhead are miracle,
The smell of your son’s hair is miracle,
The arms of your friend wrapped ’round you,
Saying, it will be okay, is miracle.
Love is a miracle.
That we can be loved is a miracle.

I asked only that I’d see my son graduate,
And I did. That is a miracle.

I am a stricken one.
I was stricken long ago.
I’m part of the great finite,
And I’m part of the great forever,
So in need of mercy,
So thankful for miracles.

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Death Death Poems Dying Hope Horses Life Loss Love Poem Poems Poetry Soul Souls Spirit Survival Yearning

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