| Author: | Diane Prebula | ISBN: | 1230000212266 |
| Publisher: | Resilient Publishing | Publication: | January 23, 2014 |
| Imprint: | The Coliseum | Language: | English |
| Author: | Diane Prebula |
| ISBN: | 1230000212266 |
| Publisher: | Resilient Publishing |
| Publication: | January 23, 2014 |
| Imprint: | The Coliseum |
| Language: | English |
…You broke the shell of my burden.
I shook inside…You have opened my core…
scores of monarchs in the white sun.
We are challenged to live in pilgrimage in this excerpt from the poem The Call—
When the wind blows by, get on
Breathe azure air until it dominates your veins.
Rest in the adventure of this connection;
you have answered the call—hold on.
Moments where we find ourselves temporarily lost are reflected in these verses from the poem Echoes—
Small fires igniting in the forest
are heating my blood, sounding the alarm…
my head is burning. Smoke jumpers left my voice
to drown in the puddles of my mind.
Fog lumbers in like Leviathan…
…I’ve been circling, and now the circles echo off.
I feel like a shrinking rag. Something’s happening…
When we heed the call, He lays our path on the ground of this mystery, undergirded by the rock of Christ, our certainty, beneath a sky that bursts with promise. We open to a glimpse in the verse from the title poem, Brushing the Blue—
You simmer through our trepidation, and nudge us to wait for You.
You expand us to move forward again where promises burst…
like autumn leaves, sun struck, brush the blue air of relief.
…You broke the shell of my burden.
I shook inside…You have opened my core…
scores of monarchs in the white sun.
We are challenged to live in pilgrimage in this excerpt from the poem The Call—
When the wind blows by, get on
Breathe azure air until it dominates your veins.
Rest in the adventure of this connection;
you have answered the call—hold on.
Moments where we find ourselves temporarily lost are reflected in these verses from the poem Echoes—
Small fires igniting in the forest
are heating my blood, sounding the alarm…
my head is burning. Smoke jumpers left my voice
to drown in the puddles of my mind.
Fog lumbers in like Leviathan…
…I’ve been circling, and now the circles echo off.
I feel like a shrinking rag. Something’s happening…
When we heed the call, He lays our path on the ground of this mystery, undergirded by the rock of Christ, our certainty, beneath a sky that bursts with promise. We open to a glimpse in the verse from the title poem, Brushing the Blue—
You simmer through our trepidation, and nudge us to wait for You.
You expand us to move forward again where promises burst…
like autumn leaves, sun struck, brush the blue air of relief.
