Only the moon knows her secret

Only the moon knows her secret.

For who else can understand why she walks so sedately when the day holds her hand?

Can she not feel the joy spilling from his palm?

Can she not feel the warmth of the sun’s laugh?

Only the moon knows her secret.

For who else can say why she speaks in merely gentle tones to the open blue sky?

Can she not hear the birds breaking into sweet song?

Can she not hear the sheer joy that pulses across the globe with the dawn?

Only the moon knows her secret.

For who else can say why she so effortlessly holds her façade of calm in the teasing tickle of the afternoon breeze?

Can she not see the leaves giggling and rustling in reply?

Can she not see the waves lifting their shaggy heads to crash and roar in powerful play?

Only the moon knows her secret.

For who else can say without judgement or fear that she is a creature of the night?

Can he ignore how she glances up in anticipation when the night rises alone?

Can he hide her upturned wonder and solitary dance when his own rays touch her tousled head with silver?

Can he pretend not to be moved by her delight in his starry companions and her open conversations with the night wind?

For who but she and he can say why she comes alive when the rest of the world has closed its eyes to the dwellers of the darkness?

Only the moon knows her secret, and he will never tell.

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she wore the veil

she wore the veil with virgin grace
and draped it o’er her brow
and hidden there she wore the air
of dignity – yet how
came she to stand, shunned, in this place

she wore the veil of unjust shame
by others she was robed
– this quiet child of manners mild –
in words that cut and probed
determined to find sin and blame

she wore the veil her man gave back
despite his love, for she
had crossed the grove which he behove
and rumour had run free
and found her guilty of the black

she wore the veil the angel left
it shone through pain and gloom
spoke God’s great need to plant a seed
of hope inside her womb
to save humanity bereft

she wore the veil with reckless joy
abandoned to His love
the shame was lost to higher cost
of birthing grace from Him above
wrapped in her holy veil a tiny boy

© Emma McGeorge

blank pages

blank pages

haunting with an open, empty stare

no ink swirls gracefully across the void spaces

no pen softly kisses the shy, papery cheeks

blank pages

lying aimless and alone

bereft of anything but their own inadequacy

and yet it is not

their blame to own

even if it is

their shame to be known as

blank pages

for how can a page be filled

if the tumbling words never spill over

like autumn leaves painting the ground?

if rhythm dances elusively

and rhyme refuses to sing

then how can a parchment

no matter how willing

ever carry the world?

for no matter how much these

blank pages

long to capture a heartbeat

and hold it to their breast

sometimes the words run free

unfathomable

untameable

like wild, rippling waves

frothing wordless

and leaving in their empty wake only

unsung woes

and unheard sighs

and unspoken wonderings

that cannot yet take their sweet rest upon these

blank pages

© Emma McGeorge 2015

Raining Words

the rain falls heavy upon the ground

dashing recklessly, splashing and gasping and tumbling

over flowers and buildings and trees

the air is overripe with unsung words

I know this, because I see them falling heavily to the ground

wrapped in an incandescent globe

too many words for this world to bear

far too many words

and far too few pages to hold them

they tumble and fall and sing to a deaf night

their low, grey tune thrums all around me

wordless

yet saying everything I cannot

so who am I to tell them not to fly?

who am I to tell them to hold back?

to beg them to snuggle down in their misty mansions and wait until the earth is ready to soak them in?

the globe keeps spinning

the dusty ground keeps sighing

the words keeps falling from the sky

and I welcome the downpour

whether I am ready or not

standing in the fresh coolness

listening to a song with no rhyme

drenched in the rain

marveling in the words

as they tumble and dance in their dewy cloaks

Tears of God

Raindrops are falling like so many tears

Brokenly singing the song of my fears

Low is the sky with the weight of this cloud

Wrapping the earth in a sorrowful shroud

Somewhere the sun shines, but here it’s unseen

Mem’ries alone tell me what once has been

Yet in this chill wind where colors are grey

Raindrops are healing, for words cannot say

How much you mean to me, how much I care

How much I cherish those times we could share

So, though the heavens are crying in pain

And though I weep – oh! To see you again –

I let the raindrops break down in my place

Feeling the tears of God on my face

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Dedicated to my precious Grandpa, “Stan” Stanfield

Tears of God © Emma McGeorge 15 February 2015

Can I Hear It?

The world is weeping.
Tears fall down its face in a grey rain.
Fear abounds where anger resounds where pain compounds.
Can I hear it?
The world is hurting.
Broken dreams shatter on the hard ground.
Trust betrayed shies from love dismayed hides from hope too frayed.
Can I see it?
The world is gasping.
Shuddering, panicking, gaping for air.
Minds made dumb from hearts made numb from the endless thrum.
Can I grasp it?
The world is breaking.
Crumbling, shaking, freezing, quaking…
Hope’s warmth lost in the biting frost of too big a cost.
Can I stand it?
The world is dying.
Breathe exhales down a one way street.
Death still sings as the end bell rings as the darkness stings.
Can I feel it?
The world is weeping.
Solitary tears fall down a globe that is teeming with collective aloneness.
If only love would be the brand of an outstretched hand of one or two who would dare stand…
…and not walk away.
Can I ignore it?
© Emma McGeorge 2014

I Need You

I need you.

I need you to fill a need.

I just need a friend.

I need you to point out the silver lining,
because I am shadowed
in cloud.

I need you to laugh infectiously,
because I have forgotten
how to smile.

I need you to pick the brightest flowers,
because I no longer see the roses
among the thorns.

I need you to walk beside me in the unknown,
because even in my confusion I can sense when I’m
walking alone.

I need you to hold me silently,
because I unknowingly crave the gentle strength of
an embrace.

I need you to catch the weight of my sorrows,
because my own vessel cracks with the overflow of
my tears.

I need you to let me storm and rage and weep,
because I can’t remember if it’s okay to
fall apart.

I need you to take my hands and raise them,
because I have given up
on prayer.

I need you to tell me that I’m worth all this,
that you love me anyway,
that you care.

So that one day, someday,
I can be the one to fill a need
for you.

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© Emma McGeorge, April 2014