God’s Gift

Clutching my scarf, knit from yarn, white as stars,
Pasted against the twilight sky, a blue of deep cyan,
Tears stream down my pallid face
Fighting more than tears in the wind,
It is just h how I truly see myself,
Always awaiting something to happen,
Shedding tears of destitute fear,
My face
Now red as kissed by the chill of the wind, as
I wish for a breath of summer to
Drop from the sky,
As blue as twilight
Musical as a daytime dream,
Whispering in my heart a song or just a mantra or a chant
About blooming dogwoods, or apple blossoms
That grow in gardens in far-off lands
Planted by those who have made their beliefs their lifelines.
Maybe if I believed in something simple as the wind
That comes and goes as fast as the seasons change
And perhaps call myself one of those saints from far away lands
Planting my seeds in my own back yard.
For the wind is really of the love of God,
Meant to carry these seeds from one place to the next,
From which flowering trees will decorate this world.
I weep with the wind and sing as I weep,
As I clutch my scarf, knit from yarn, white as the moon,
Chanting that mantra to myself,
I wonder where the wind will carry my dreams, and as
I plant the seeds of this mystical reverie,
I look up and count the stars
Stark-white against the now- midnight sky of cerulean blue,
I now know that it is only in myself that I can believe, and
I do believe…

Claudia Krizay (schizoclaud)