Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

music of the soul

love is the music
of the heart
a song
with wings to heal the
wounded,
and
i pour all of my little red
heart into the world
in the hopes
to heal the broken hearted that
i cannot physically
touch,
and i remember you; always,
you reminded me
that mortality
is real
that we do not get to live forever
as vampires and faeries do
one day our flames are
blown out—
yet you still live in the hearts of those
still breathing,
and i remember your kindness
your patience
what a tough woman you were
celtic wit and courage;
i remember
seeing you after the cancer claimed
your brain and you were so
weak and fragile
i cried
because i remembered how strong you were,
and i thought it was so unfair
that anything should take your freedom
away from you
make you a caged bird—
i thought when you got better like the doctors
said you would, i'd visit, because i couldn't
endure seeing you in your vulnerability
but you never got better
you just died;
and i'm sorry i didn't let you know just how much
i loved you,
just how much you meant to me
of how i wanted to make you proud.


 
healing

love is a many splendid thing
a song, a rosebud
that never dies
it psalms such tranquility in a world
of chaos and strife
hatred is so easy; it's so easy to close
our hearts because someone
is too different or aggravating but
why should we have war
breathing in
our eyes and frothing from our tongues?
there's so much vitriol exploding
off the lips,
but no thought of the consequence of such
words and antics—
i have died a thousand deaths from words
spewed at me in hatred and aggravation
cruelty undeserved
poured over me simply because they could,
and i know how much it hurts to be
burned by people who claim
to care but don't;
you don't destroy the people you love
love is a many splendid thing—
sadly it's rare to hear the song of love sang right
there are no conditions, no dictators
and no limits to true love
the love that really heals.



ripples of love

mortality is wasted on the living
squandered in years of youth
where we spend so
many years
of introspection that we forget to look outward
at the ripples we've made to see
if we've touched the
world in hatred or in love,
and we don't see the long lasting effects
our ripples have
in the waters of the world;
we don't realize
that every action has a consequence
good or bad—
love is a healing psalm
the only power that can destroy hatred and forgive
every offense,
but so many turn it away instead
for cold objectivity
to prevent themselves from being hurt
and i know how hard it is to trust
with betrayal coming
not at the hands of enemies but of friends—
but real love isn't like that and true
friends are the ones
that stand by your side always not just when
songbirds and sunshine are singing.