A Shoe

A shoe; what make it an accessory? Perhaps that it is necessary for us to walk with, a staple of our daily wardrobe. A pair may dress us up or simply act as support against rough and possibly unruly ground. Some of us may even find shopping for a new pair or these witty and fashion forward friends a chore. Scouring store after store for the perfectly dramatic pair while trying to enjoy the exceptionally loud music that greets our ears as we step into yet another store. There they are again, stepping into the store with us!

Have you ever considered though the possibility that your shoes have been witness to many intimate moments in your life? They were on your feet when you pushed the rough spiky pedals of your first bright red tricycle, or when you went on that heart-pounding first date with the love of your life. They see everything and yet they keep amazing secrets. they would never dare share anything! Well perhaps they might with the other pairs that live in your closet; demanding information about your night out. It seems they have a personality and a spark that is dying to give you the confidence and support you need for your day.

You may ask what makes an accessory such as a shoe different from that of a comfy sweater or a sparkling beaded necklace? For a fact they are with us much longer than other pieces of our outfits, sometimes glittering in our closests for years. The importance of their job is also much more serious because they hold us up throughout our whole days' journey! They are completely opposite of your face, yet they are some of the first things noticed when you light up a room.

So have you now gleaned a new perspective on your ever interesting shoes? Hopefully now when you brave the shopping mall to find a new pair you will think carefully about what that certain pair has to offer you...

Behind Closed Eyes

Somehow it is no surprise to me yet I still wonder why I see you behind closed eyes. That dark room filling with color and light. I see first your smile, then a nose followed by eyes. Sometimes the actions are foggy yet some occasions make themselves clear; many times against my conscious will. I don't hear voices often, the picture is most vivid in my mind. Yet tonight I won't allow myself to dream those thoughts of you. The images behind my eyes that weave and mold into a theatrical masterpiece still horrify me every time. When will I rid myself of your grasp? At which point will you finally allow me to go? My heart has moved on yet it seems that my mind has not. Separating these two might be my only change of forgetting. Not an erasing of memories; folding them and placing them in sealed trunks for the future won't harm anyone at all. But perhaps it will. This puts the heart of my dear one out on the line and I will not allow that! My whole self screams "No!" That is why you will no longer share in my thoughts, no longer will I have to see your face when I sleep. My knight has come and he is not afraid to defeat you; already he has. Swooping in he obliterates your memory to worthless pieces, never to be thought of again. I see a new objective with a new perspective.

Fey

I can see her, peeking out from behind a tree trunk carefully becoming for me to come closer. I've seen her before and I've tried to avoid her but each time with no avail. The blond of her hair peeks out from the braided crown of leaves that she wears and her flowing gown dances with the grass as she dances with the sunlight. My senses seem to heighten when she is around; this willow tree moves differently. Instead of seeing only branches blowing in the wind I see life. Each leaf responding to the warm blanket of the sun with a movement of grace and fluidity.

Her nae is Fey. With each arrival she forces me to reconcile with my feelings. I have tried to ignore her slight attempts to capture my attention, with only the feeling of more intrigue and curiosity visiting me.Fey is known to arrive only when I need to recognize something that I am missing. When my world feels overwhelming and I forget the feelings that comfort me, God sends me Fey.

She doesn't really have one single thing she tries to accomplish, only the purpose of awareness. To see the true green of the grass, to watch the ball thrown for the dog without missing the bouncing as it hits the turf or the rolling as it hits a hollow in the terrain. I look to my right and see another beautiful creature looking onto the scene before him with curiosity and silent concern; his pink thin tongue hanging from his mouth. He is barking now, crying for his family. I see him, I feel him.

Then I see it, the full picture of this painting that I'm in. All of this life coming together to harmonize into the big picture. We will share, hasn't' humanity always finalized that way? Together we are one... Then I see her pass us all as she decides I understand.

She Is

She breathes, she speaks, she is. The mat is her fortress, that place where she feels secure. I know that the time that I spend in her guidance will be a journey. This time she gives me completely changes those images behind my eyes as they close. I am a queen, fairy, a dream... This journey is her gift to us; a completely and utterly transforming experience. Not only is this hour an amazing shedding of old thoughts and emotions, it is also an hour that we use to build that sparkling castle of our character. A complete change of heart happens here! Forget the complications you entered with, they are gone! Every corrective and encouraging word that comes from her sounds like music as you fly through that time of metamorphosis. Push, push, FLY! I see people and places that I once knew. I feel emotions that haven't been with me in years, an awakening of myself I had buried deep inside of me and needed that key to release. I see her with that key; we all do. I watch her as she pushes us; she sees the goal. The fire in her eyes wants us to see that same beauty or to only glimpse that rainbow of freedom that she sees.

Then I awaken. My eyes open with new perspective and new health. One simple hour has past.

City in the Clouds

I see a city in the sky. A wide meadow spreads across the flat plateau of the clouds. Behind it climbs steps that lead to a peaceful pool that trickles down the grassy meadow. If the fairy's flew from that meadow they would reach a beautiful floating rain forest. Natives of the island would greet them wearing clothes fashioned from the nature around them. Banana leaf tunics and grass skirts adorned the ladies while the men might prefer thin bark skin pants. The fairy's would survey this as they continued on their tour.

Blanketing the air beneath the island you would find a gorgeous theater. An elaborate circular show ring where the native elves would put on a grand show! Rock formations made up the seating, some areas rising higher than the others; wouldn't consistency ruin the feeling of freedom?

How do the elves travel? This might cross your mind for the fairy population simply flew. Well, many creatures littered the island with their families providing transportation for land and air. Massive butterflies were more than happy to provide a breathtaking ride to the theater or the meadow. Beetles were numerous and helped with traffic on land. Everything lived in harmony, sharing talents and stories and bartering one skil for the help of another.

Yet just as quickly as I saw this majestic city, just as quickly did I lose it. It disappeared beneath the clouds and beneath my grasp. Oh how I do wish it would last.

Mexico

Can you hear the pitter-patter of the rain falling on the straw? The warm wind blows the droplets here and there as they dance through the sky. As I open the door the warm air hits my skin, breaking away my fear of the cold. How beautiful then to have to opposites meld together. The winds warmth with the sky's cold drops. The clouds break as the sun comes out to great the opposites that shook hands this morning.

The earrings were the thing that defined her. If jewelery wasn't on display I am sure she didn't feel quite the same. The sparkle of her rings or the hypnotic swivel of her favorite pearl dangles finished her look. Shoes were also important; the final words of an outfit spoken with class and charisma.

Hair was never out looked and any makeup was feminine and stunning. An enthusiastic shot of perfume set the whole tone for the day and a pink leather jacket pulled from the back of the closet screamed "Fashion"!

Being a woman wasn't only a right for her, it was an art. Even her evening or bedtime attire was proper. Each smooth sleek nightgown trimmed with ivory lace or each soft housecoat cinched fashionably to her curves looked like it took much effort to adorn.

Yet it was the laught that captured you. That unique bubbly giggle that carried from far away was the feature that she wore most confidently. For if she was giggling, who wasn't happy?

The Girls of Emotion

I think I've seen her before. Maybe we all have. As time goes on and we change and grow I think each woman has chanced a peek at that girl who lurks just behind our shadow. A figure of grace and purity, she goes dancing past us and throws us a wink just in time for our ever remembering hearts to capture. Not one of us can deny that we enjoy these brief meetings yet we would never admit to actually wanting that crucial conversation that could clarify all of the sparks and now cloudy memories of our past. I myself have wanted that exchange of words that would give me that final peace and I do admit that I have rehearsed on many occasions the kinds of conversations I would have with her. So here and now as I write the preface to what I hope would inspire you to practice your reflexes I myself feel encouraged to hold onto those pieces of my life. If you happened to see that colorful dress or hear that bubbly giggle I sincerely hope that you would be brave enough to turn your head and catch that wink.

If I could talk to that girl who diligently searches for snails on the butterfly tree, I would ask her what she worries about. She would probably glance down at the earth and make sure none of her slimy friends were where her feet were soon to trod. the golden hair that adorned her would be falling loosely down around each shoulder and her rosy cheeks would lift as she smiled and walked towards me. Ivory arms would lift to the sky, each of the snails holding tightly to her skin, and her reply would be a simple "nothing". The ripple of that bubbly giggle would fill the whole backyard as we would sit and talk under two large maple trees just brimming with the life of summer.

If I could talk to that girl that sits by the river, I would ask her about love. Her head would probably tilt gently to her right shoulder as she grabs the end of her long braid to pull it over her left shoulder. The blue of her eyes would curiously look towards the sky as her teeth would quickly bite over her bottom lip in a curious pose. That carefree smile that I remember so well would light up her face and she would respond with a giggle and a single sigh. The hem of her dress would teasingly graze the top of the water as her feet felt the slippery moss that grew on the river rocks. Her long and slender fingers would then prick the surgace of the water as she carved a figure eight into the liquid. "Love is like this water," she would say as the smile on her face would widen.. "It would be forever constant if our curious and persistent nature didn't cause us to ripple and break that seal."

What do you think? I am hoping that these girls have encouraged you to chose a quiet and contemplative place to sit and think about the past. You might even realize that your patience for the past has run out just a little and that you might not be so inclined to snatch that glance at the girl fleeting by but if you do, that option is always open.

Gone

You were here, truly and really here. I could feel your warm and beautiful life flowing through your hands as they soothed me. The rhythm of your heart was a beautiful melody as it sang a complimentary tune to the Lord.

I could see you. Not just that physical body but the woman living inside those eyes. The fighting spirit that clasped hands with the loving caregiver; strength with gentleness. My eyes could see you.

You were peaceful as you rested there. A quiet fight that you put all you had into. My heart brimmed with love and respect for you. My hand held yours and the feeling of the life within you was still there. I held on and squeezed, hoping I could somehow fan your flame. You were there... then you were gone.

Flying! That same moment you were soaring in glory with life and full of that stubborn strength. I couldn't feel you hands flowing with that life, but you could feel mine.

A Pink Flower

It is one of many
One
Yet completely unique
Holding itself high
To be noticed by all

The wind sees the tree
Not as individuals
As one whole until they sway
Yet they individually feel

They live and they thrive
Winters breeze comes too soon
Each petal falls breaking the unity
Stripping each tender part
Dismembering the pack

What do we see now?
Each leaf lies isolated
Unity is no more
Yet it once started in confidence.