POETRY cont.
BITTER REFLECTION

He looked into the glass and saw a stranger.
When had he changed?
Others tried to intervene; to heal him.
But one by one, he pushed them away ~
Until at last he was all alone,
With only his reflection there to mock him.

His exile was a prison of his own making.
It was his choice; his and his alone.
He embraced the coldness,
And it chilled him to the bone.
It doused his fire and killed his spirit,
Until he was numb.
His emotions died a quiet death.

There was no healing; he would not allow it.
Love was there, for the asking,
But he would not ask.
He'd been hurt too badly
To ever go
there again.
He recoiled within his shattered pride,
And made love to the bitterness,
And then he blew out the light.

(c)2003 Joy Harber


HERE LIES LOVE

There is a time for every season.
The stars in their courses,
And us living our lives,
All at the appointed time.

So don't mourn now,
For a love that is gone.
It had its season, and it was beautiful.
But by nature, life changes.
Like a stream through the hills,
It flows on.
Taking away the old and bringing the new.

Smile at the memory,
Of laughter and tears ~
Of shared dreams and harsh realities,
Faced together.
Celebrate the life that was,
And do not cry.

Live your life as a memorial,
To all that was good and true,
And pure,
Once upon a time...

Erect a stone to the past,
So you can move on...
Here Lies Love.

(c)2003 Joy Harber

?
FAR OFF LAND

The past is in a far off land,
Full of shadows.
Some of regret, some of laughter.
Most of them lost in the murky waters
Of memory.

The past is in a far off land,
I try not to go there.
Like quicksand, it sucks you in,
And tries to hold on.
Rarely is it the sweet memories that come
To haunt in the dead of night.

But my time is now. I am alive.
And that alone means the victory is mine.
Shadows fade in the light of the present.
Old ghosts from that far off land,
Can hold me no longer.
I seek today and all its promise.

Show me "tomorrow".

(c)2003 Joy Harber


HOPE'S CRY

We know it won't be long now.
The soldiers are everywhere.
They don't even try to sneak up on us,
But boldly march; their drums beating
Like an executioner's song.

The children are so scared,
We try to hush their cries ~
To give them courage
To go to God.

The buildings are on fire now.
They've trampled our fields.
There will be no food to feed the poor
After we are gone.

If I'm not afraid to die,
Then why am I trembling?
In my heart, I am a lion ~
But my body is cold and weak
And scared.

Take us soon ~
That we will endure this madness no longer.

I pray that our faith will not be erased
From the earth completely;
That a remnant shall remain
To tell the truth,
To tell of our lives here.
All is not lost.
That is hope's cry.

(c)2001 Joy Harber
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