“I asked my reflection, How did you get there?”

Video

“The Gift-Wrap & The Jewel” by Wanda B. Goines

I looked in the mirror and what did I see,
but a little old lady peering back at me
With bags and sags and wrinkles and wispy white hair,
and I asked my reflection,
How did you get there?”

You once were straight and vigorous and now you’re stooped and weak,
when I tried so hard to keep you from becoming an antique.

My reflection’s eyes twinkled as she solemnly replied,
you’re looking at the gift wrap and not the jewel inside
A living gem and precious, of unimagined worth
Unique and true, the real you, the only you on earth.

The years that spoil your gift-wrap with other things more cruel,
should purify and strengthen, and polish up that jewel.

So focus your attention on the inside, not the out
On being kinder, wiser, more content and more devout
Then, when your gift-wrap’s stripped away your jewel will be set free,
to radiate God’s glory throughout eternity.

 

Original news you may read here.

Father and Son

Art Morgan

Here lies ashes of Art Morgan buried at the foot of Sakura Tree at Forest Law Cemetery close to Mother’s gravesite.

 
Father and Son
wearing the same outfit
black turtle neck, black jacket, black coat. 
Can I tell the difference?
young and older,
spitting image. 
It was Remembrance Day. 
Father was in town for the legion
to commemorate Remembrance Day. 
Where have you been hiding this young lady?
asked Father to Son. 
Where have you been hiding your father?
a thought I kept to myself for the Son. 
He was an army pilot during World War II. 
Father survived the war,
got married, raised a
family of four. 
I was happy to meet Father but
death came to soon. 
He died
in his own
hands. 
Why? 
Have you seen a
grown man cry?
Son was inconsolable. 
In Father’s bedroom
there I sat on his bed and lit
a candle to say a little prayer
and left the candle burning
by the bedside table. 
WHO LIT A CANDLE! 
Scream came out of Son’s mouth
hush, it was me, hush
Inconsolable.
wishing I could take away his
pain. 
Thanksgiving Day
time to scatter the ashes on top
of the mountain
overlooking the lake. 
One by one
the family took handful of ashes
blown to smithereens
carried by the wind. 
Mine placed in a small container
for Father’s ashes to bury him
at the cemetery. 
At the foot of the Sakura tree
is where I buried his ashes
near Mother’s resting place. 
Father’s bible was given to me
in memory of Son’s Father. 
There is no answer to Why. 
Remembrance Day
will always remind
me of Father and Son. 
 

What lies ahead without Fidel

Gallery

This gallery contains 7 photos.

The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road, the … Continue reading