Winding Path

moving pictures in clouds and trees through which sunlight streams

evergreen towers in a quiet forest save the crunch of leaves underfoot

and a green so deep, i dive into the pockets of cool darkness beckoning

tell me your secrets and lead me further and further and beyond the light

past a forgotten gravesite, and a broken cart wheel

and foundations crumbled around a solitary scorched hearth

so dark i'd swear it was still smouldering

and further beyond the iron mines and the battered pines

and the streams of water and light running off the mountain

a cliff to rest, on which lies a vine long since fallen from the weight of too many swings

and before me chasm so wide the way around long since abandoned

(a pause)

the return to this place, from which I ran so long and so far...

a shaft of light appears, shimmering before me. 

A way beyond the fears and the chasm of doubt.

Beyond the forest and the mountain, and even the city where I've hid these long years. 

I drink in the light, and I bless it. I am whole, and the chasm but a memory.

Jennifer D. Behnke, May 10, 2013

A Dish That is Broken

The engine ground to a halt

and sputtered 

and went cold

And all sound ceased

And the heat dissipated

And the field was still

And the rain fell

The clock stopped

and the gears locked 

and the arms went limp

and the lights faded 

And the shadows crept

And the fear came

And the sky darkened

His heart stopped

And his light left

And my mind froze

And my bones turned brittle 

And my legs became stone

And my heart lead

And my soul ash 

Now I stand 

With no path

With nothing left

But ache

And empty arms

And dirt 

And pebbles

And silence.

Jennifer D. Behnke, August 14, 2014

Phoenix Song #2

Stretching my wings as the first rays of dawn 

Pink and throbbing burst over the horizon.

I am trembling now, too weak to walk on my own.

Yet too strong to sit amidst these dying embers

Charred remains of what was. 

There is nothing left of my old self,

That ancient and confident life of half-opened eyes
Which searched the distance for a glimmer.

She is dead, the one who stood sentinel, stoic, on guard.

Her end came with honesty at last

Not the struggle itself, but the answer
Leaving no room for hope.

So she left.
Burned up, stood up, walked out.

Made a choice and chose to live against all odds. 

Knowing that a life without hope was not worth living.

And so the path will clear.
Trust it, always. 

Emerged from the fire, newly minted
Scorched and scarred, but glimpsing restoration.

She will again grow wise and diligent 

confident and strong backed.

But she will never close her eyes again.

She has survived the crush.

She will bear the pain and bring the world love.

Jennifer D. Behnke - October 24, 2014