Friday, November 20, 2015

"Sweet Leaf" a poem by Jess Coffman

A silent morning rustling, 
amid the ever-hum of the big city.
Living, rusted, shimmying leaves, 
Without shame in their yearly shift
and decline, 
Yet we human beings, fall into the 
unease of the change. 
Allowing goosebumps on our skin, 
to become a physicalization of the 
unknown fear of a new life season. 

One can't exactly plan change, 
for we all change according to 
our own unique inner pacing. 
But, sometimes we can feel it come on like a wave on the distant ocean, 
not knowing the moment of rumination's break and release.
But with devotion, we can choose to trust the fiercely fervent wind that brings this wave,
and with immense satisfaction, allow it to hold us upright, as we push against it, 
testing it's love like a mischievous child. 
In this, we attempt to welcome abundant life as it roars at us, 
bracing ourselves for it's powerful baptism. 

I, would like to be like the leaf, allowing 
new colors as they come, 
Surrendering the illusion of intentioned will, 
to make my life 
what it must be. 
Rather, I will synchronize by the Great Sowers whisper, 
allowing myself to be stained and washed. 
And enjoy the unprecedented and familiar pigments painted on me, 
as I weather time and accept the truth that we are all hanging with 
divine purpose by God's Grace. 

And like the aging and ever-changing leaf, 
we don't know when we may be plucked, or fulfill our time and 
swirl to our end on the ground, 
being gently escorted by the palms of the wind. 
And on that day, I will roll and cartwheel and run among friends until 
I am collected under the feet of exuberant young children. 

And I hope the last sound I hear, is the laughter of these children as they 
jump and kick and dance on my well-worn and crunchy body.
And I will smile as I deteriorate, and my purpose will be fulfilled. 
And I will consider it all, to have been a blessing, 
And I will consider it all, to have been good. 

JESS COFFMAN

"You are under no obligation to be the same person you were a year, month or even 15 minutes ago. 
You have the right to grow. No apologies." - Unknown 

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

"him." a poem by Jess Coffman




him.
We're sitting in the exact place, 
Where he first began the smile, 
That's tattooing on my heart.

he is the source of happy sighs. 
he is the capturer of moments of peace for me. 
he is a preserver of rare beauty, 
An accomplice to my whims, 
A gentle wave that swirls in my chest, 
And disassembles my fears. 
A calm silver lining, 
Amidst the heaviness of flow in this place we call home.

Transplants attempting to plant roots in ourselves 
And each other,
But with hearts welded back together by our own unsteady hands. 
"Will moments like this be lost forever like breath in the winter?"
Shadows of sweet holding and vulnerable morning kisses, 
Give hope to a new beginning,
A wise and cautious rebirth. 

I'm whole without him
My Soul, a beam of Light that aligns me to my Creator.
But with him, I'm embraced in time, 
Made shiny in his sight. 

What a gift this moment is, 
To look the stunning sunset in it's adoring eye, 
And adore it right back,
To have an unquestioning gut, 
And a Full Heart. 

I close my eyes and feel his eyes on my face, 
Taking me in, 
In Prayer. 
Praying for us and thanking our Creator
For this Gift Of Today. 
I open, and look into his dark eyes, 
Seeing the Light On The Inside. 
And once again I surrender a happy sigh, 
And a silent swirl of Ecstasy. 

JESS COFFMAN


"There are some things that are only meant to be seen 
with your eyes and your soul, 
not to be captured on camera." - B.A.L.M