Linger

linger_040915_1Linger, linger on my love
Clad in armor of white.
Linger a moment longer love,
Stay with me through my fight.

Dearest, you never think that it will have an end,
But Eros makes his prey blind to times flights,
And here we are, your tomb, my closest friend.

Would that you were in my bed every night,
And every morn be first to wed my sight?
But eyes gaze and arms reach to spite, my dread.

Ahead of me a flock of doves alight.
The grey clouds abate. Blue skies take their stead.

I know you’d want me to show strength ahead.
If you were here you’d want to see my smile.
Maybe someday my smile will daily spread.
I’ll try, I vow, for you, I’ll try, meanwhile.

My eyes close. I lift my head. I linger.
A warm breeze. A faint smile. We linger.

Linger one moment longer, love,
Draped in your gown of white.
Now linger on no more, my love,
I’ve made it to the light.

You can read more from TH Ponders here

Somewhere over the rainbow…

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It’s a well worn story arc.  Early on, the main character pines for deeper meaning, adventure, confirmation that there simply has to be more to life than just this.  It’s somewhere over the rainbow where all this lies and more.  Perhaps the purest depiction of this is the in character and story most of us have deeply etched into our memories: Dorothy Gayle of The Wizard of Oz.  There’s the beautiful song, and title of this post, that serves as the soundtrack for this sentiment, for Dorthy and for any of us who have ever felt the metaphorical equivalent of being trapped on a Kansas farm, pinned down to a black and white backdrop that never changes, and helpless to do anything at all about it.

Pardon the melodrama, but the metaphor holds: this has been my photographic tale.  And I’m far from alone.

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Behind the Photograph: Light Striking a Twisted Pine

A lot of times, people ask me, “where did you take that photograph,” or,” how did you get your image to look that way? Many of my photos are from far off cities and distant mountain ranges. But this image was taken right around where I work. I want to talk a little bit about how this image came together and make a point or two about keeping your eyes open for the beauty around you.

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Make Your Own Photograph

candleHaven’t we all wanted to post a picture to social media and see the likes compile one after another? I know I most definitely have. Oftentimes I find myself lamenting the less than ideal shooting conditions outside my front door and before I know it, I haven’t posted anything of note to my account. Sometimes we have to make our own photographs out of everyday items and lighting. Continue reading

Joy

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I’m very much in a get-back-to-basics state of mind these days.  That is part of a simplification quest, a desire to root out distraction, excess, and glut.  Pope Benedict 16 once said: “Silence is God’s first language.”  I’m bringing in some silence.

It has been in this self-reflective mode that I have realized that as I’m now well along on my 365 Day Project (day 237 in fact), the trials of the past year have resulted in some somber images… and some even more somber accompanying captions.  A quick stroll through my Instagram feed will make the point.

So…

I’m looking to bring some joy back into the picture.  Or should I say… pictures.

Cityscapes Subtle

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Given the option, I’d don hiking boots and head for nature in a New York minute.  But travel of late has taken me into urban settings and that has been more of a challenge for me.  So, rather than seeking the obvious and more likely well trodden photographic path, I’ve tried to look for images that speak to metropolis, but which do so in a more subtle and… well, less obvious manner.

That was my challenge…

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Wounded… but Now Lifted

wounds

When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side.
The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. (John 20)

One thing is certain.  Everyone Jesus encountered, everyone since, everyone here, you and I… have all suffered, are suffering, will suffer.  We don’t seek this, we don’t choose this, but we carry scars all of us.  Some can be seen, felt easily.  Others less so.  Many are completely invisible.  But these are the wounds we carry.

I have always believed that when Jesus appeared to his followers after the Easter, he must have looked entirely different, most assuredly better I would assume.  Most of them had seen him last at his trial, at the scourging, hanging upon a cross, or draped in burial clothes.  He was brutally beaten and he must have looked that part.

In the small room where he now stood, he must have… looked better than that.  But the risen Jesus still had scars, still carried those wounds.  And furthermore, this was how they knew it was him.  By those wounds.

In our lives, we will be wounded.  If there is nothing left in the story to tell, then we will carry those wounds forward for as long as we possibly can.  They can shape us, identify us, define us.

For those of us who are willing to stand with others in that small enclosure, who recognize him as the one who was also wounded, wounded even for us, but who now stands before us… showing us his scars… and who is alive… and if we believe that the story continues…

… then we can proceed on forward.  Now lifted.