Tormented souls weep
Looking skyward for answers
Like astronomers
Seeking what can not be seen
With the naked eye of man
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
Tag Archives: heaven
Vision in White
Light…blinding as weary eyes struggle to see
A vision from lore, dressed in white
Stands before me with outstretched hand
“Walk with me.”, he whispered
I, incapable of uttering a word,
Am I mute,
Am I stunned to silence
I cannot fathom
As unshod feet touch the naked floor
I place trembling hand– in hand
“Be not afraid.”, spoken with a tender smile
“I’m not.”, escapes from parched lips
Peace washes over me as I shuffle
Lead by the kindly stranger
Toward the light nearer and brighter
I was not afraid– to my surprise
Weariness replaced with joy
I longed to reach our unbeknownst destination
Enveloped in the warmth of the light
My Guide in white became clear
Eyes opened wide
Heaven lay boundlessly before me
I was in the hand of God
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
Eternal Night
The question eternal,
What lay beyond the infinite night?
I peer Heavenward for the answer,
Pleading for an omnipotent retort,
Never to be realized.
~~
On bended knee,
With hands grasped in prayer,
I have asked for absolution.
Hoping that there is life for me,
Beyond this earthly Hell.
~~
Surely there must be more,
How cruel the joke,
Were Heaven the fodder of fairytales.
This must not be,
I refuse to succumb to disbelief!
~~
This night I will read the Book,
Comforting myself in it’s inspiration,
Denouncing the wickedness of my sins.
By immersion in the prose of Psalm 51,
Praying for the cleansing of my soul.
~~
I will not surrender faith,
To the folly of Satan’s game,
Committing myself to his depths of despair.
Surely this mustn’t be my destiny,
If I am to be a child of the everlasting God.
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
This Must Be Paradise
The band playing,
Something Caribbean and acoustic.
Cigarette smoke swirling,
Thick and dreamy,
Like a storm cloud overhead.
Reminiscent of Bogie and Bacall.
Tropical breezes,
Twisted by bamboo fans,
Deliberate spin.
Ice tinkles as it slides to the bottom of the empty glass.
Another scotch,
Single malt on the rocks.
Humidity in the air,
Sweat streams like the gulf tide.
Cotton shirt,
A combination of moisture and salt.
The pattern of the tropics.
Surf sounds,
Rolling gently,
Up the sugar sand shore.
Moon glistening,
Off the albino caps.
Palm fronds,
Softly rustle high overhead,
Breaking the silhouette,
Of the tangerine moon.
There is no place I’d rather be.
Tropical breeze,
Kettle drums,
Smell of the ocean,
And single malt,
Surely this must be…
Heaven on earth.
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
Trapped
Trapped,
Caught between the here and the hereafter,
Struggling for balance,
One that never comes,
Placating beings unseen,
In hopes of eternity,
Uncertain of belief or disbelief,
Wanting to live for today,
Distressed over what’s after tomorrow,
Something out of grasp,
Held back, but from what,
Myth, legend, some grand fairy tale,
Trapped between faith and science,
Trapped until I reach tomorrow.
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
Solace
credit – whitegadget..com
By D. R. DiFrancesco
~~~~~
What beauty this world has on offer
The natural and spiritual surrounds us but we do not see
Too busy with the distractions of the material
Simplicity in the song of the bird
The majestic wonder of the mountain
The desolate elegance of the desert
The mystery of God
Lost among our earthly pursuits
With eyes closed and head arched towards heaven
My mind banishes pain, suffering and torment
Solitude seeps into my bones
A sense of peace forgotten floods my subconscious
The smell of wildflowers
The flutter of the hummingbirds wings
The lonesome howl of the coyote
The joy of spiritual oneness
Sights, sounds and smells I have long ignored
I can almost feel the arms of God drawing me close
Tears shed for time wasted dissipate in a divine awakening
Renewal washes over me
The material is no long all consuming
Reborn with a new sense of purpose
Filled with the glory of nature and the solemnity of nirvana
I have once again found solace and peace in this finite life
All through that which had always lay before me
But I could not see
River’s Run
By D. R. DiFrancesco
The river wails in excitement as it reaches the precipice
Morphing into an effervescent shower of God’s tears
Crashing helplessly on the rocks below
The river never trembles
Never hesitates
Never endeavors to postpone it’s end
Instead it marches headlong into the unrevealed
On to a destiny known only to the maker
What a wonderous life it must lead
Concerned not with it’s fate
Content that it has traveled the determined path
Only to be reborn as a bountiful gift from Heaven
To Almost Touch Heaven
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Staring into an ocean blue sky,
Gliding,
Cradled in the silvery wings of a bird,
So close God,
So close to heaven I can almost touch it.
This must be what it is like to die,
What it is like to ascend into the afterlife,
Weightlessly soaring,
Song of birds a symphony,
Leading my soul skyward,
Sun warm and inviting on my face,
Clouds of virginal white clothe me,
Comforting my weary essence.
At peace,
This must be what it is like,
What it is like to almost touch heaven,
On the wings of the silvery bird.
In Memorial
She is gone now,
Weeks have passed,
Shock is no more.
Resigned to the fact that we won’t see her again,
We won’t share coffee around the kitchen table,
Won’t share meals at the holidays,
Won’t see the warm smile,
Won’t see the pride in her eyes at our little accomplishments.
Grandmothers are someone taken for granted,
They were always there,
From our beginning,
Naively we think that they will never leave.
Still something deep in our hearts knows its a lie,
We lie to ourselves because its easier than facing the truth.
The status quo easier to take than the pain,
But nothing can stay the same.
Parents become Grandparents,
Children, parents,
The eternal cycle repeats like a palindrome.
I don’t pretend to know what lay beyond this fragile life,
We pray to, hope for, obsess about an unseen God,
Holding steadfast to our faith,
Grasping with clenched fists to the fabric of what’s left of our existence,
Knowing that in time, we to, will meet our maker,
Whomever we conceive our maker to be.
In this, our soul finds consolation,
Finding peace in our belief in the unknowable,
Finding relief in the belief that this world is just the beginning,
That eternal life is not a myth,
But instead a promise of something greater,
Something greater than anything created in our mortal imaginations.
In this hope,
We find comfort.
In this hope,
We find peace.
As we pay our final respects,
In this hope,
You will not be forgotten.
Instead,
In this hope of heaven,
We say goodbye.
Dom DiFrancesco 