Memory Twigs (NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo)

Written for NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo AND The Sunday Whirl

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2024/04/14/wordle-650/

Screenshot

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Memory twigs fall

On ledge of my mind

Where I do not wish

To wallow lest

wake ancestors

Cause their crystal cup

Thus far, unbroken

To suddenly shatter…

I cannot abide stench–

Blood of divine cells

Drip of their august

Creation–spilling down

My face, coursing over

My body, covering my

Feet…and rising back

Up, so deep, too deep

Until I drown in cursed

Mystery unsolved…

Of what I came from

Who I should have been

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Martha and Mary Reflect (3TC)

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/03/25/three-things-challenge-m644/

Di’s 3 prompt words are:  AWE, AWFUL, HORRIBLE

♥~†~♥

Martha and Mary were elderly sisters, their memories sharp as knife blades.  Their hearts could hardly hold the awe and love they’d known for years, since meeting Jesus

He was different, almost indescribably so:  wise, well-educated, strong, humble, mannerly, tender-hearted, kindly.  Yet down-to-earth…they could hear his hearty laugh even now.  

Whenever He was in town back then, they knew He’d visit their home for dinner…it was cause for celebration.  They’d spend days cooking, baking–and fuss about which of them would serve Him their special dish first!

He’d been their teacher, rabbi…their best friend in the world.  He was Someone they could count on for whatever they needed.  He meant everything to them.

Once a year, though, their delighted reminiscing was over-shadowed by recollections of a Friday long ago: the day He was arrested for no reason–no honest factual testimony, no crime.

Oh, the awful torture He’d endured…it had gone on and on.  And most horrible of all–the image burned in their minds of Him nailed to that Cross.  Bruised, bleeding from welts, slashes…a crown of thorns wholly unsuitable for the Messiah they’d waited for, their King.

He’d made them a promise which sounded too good to believe…but He was true to His Word–  

The grave was nothing to Him.  Sure enough He’d died–and three days later He was ALIVE, greeting them again.  That was a GOOD day…people still talk about it, singing His name.

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Stutter-Stepping Heart

In case anyone’s curious about the blog’s name, years ago in an early blog…maybe 2011…I wrote this poem:

~♥~

Sometimes, the wind chimes

Play memory-songs of your

Blue-steel eyes on me.

I’m without rhythm, lyrics…

Dancing mute, stutter-stepping.

©V.Sparrow, 2024