I Use To Be
By Vincent Williams
Barren land, devoid of fruition
a desert, from a life of neglect
pleading for showers of rain.
Then you stormed over me, and I bloomed
and blossomed.
Stifled and longing for affection
wanting for connection, but never fulfilled
submerged in desire.
You blew your breath into my lungs,
and I discovered devotion.
Lost, searching for meaning, for purpose
a stranger to compassion and love’s labors
begging for peace.
Your guiding star appeared, to nurture me to shelter.
Now, I am an unknown creation – even to my own self
an enigma – full mirror,
reflecting on who – I used to be.
Grateful for the virtue you imparted in me.
The Space Between (Luke 16:25 & 26)
By Vincent Williams
The space between here
and now is narrow,
the space between what was
and what is – is far spent,
the space between love
and hate is division,
the space between the mountain top
and the valley is resilience,
the space between victory
and defeat is perseverance,
the space between heaven
and hell is a great gulf – fixed;
no one can travel from one place
to the other,
because of – the space between.
Springtime with Birds
By Vincent Williams
Springtime kicks the door open on winter –
first – with a loud knock,
Ushering itself in like
the alarm on a clock,
Birds appearing on the scene,
all kinds – in a large flock,
Wild geese flying high in a “V-shape”
distinguishing their stock,
The rooster starting the day off –
opening up with a loud “cock!”,
Pigeons roaming the sidewalks
like thugs hanging out on the block,
The mock-ing-bird mimicking other birds
with a sarcastic “mock”,
The blue jays’ white, black, and blue neck
looks like the rings at the top of a sock,
The gray doves’ coat of feathers resembles
the color of a normal rock,
Wild ducks evading the boardwalk
like they are the owners of the dock,
Roadrunners roaming the plains with
the endurance of a jock,
Eagles dominating sky territory –
putting the lower airways on lock,
Springtime’s season is limited –
it’s on the clock; “tick!-tock!”
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