A Book is like a Looking-Glass

A book is like a looking-glass . . . 

   for me a mirror lake of tears un-shed  

A viewing thing of inward silver:

By its light I see the inside story

   of myself . . .

I look for peace, 

But see my heart’s own insecurities

   reflected back at me instead . . .

But, safe, joyous in another’s fantasy

   in storied freedom, all is without fear!

And yet, fear, what has it to offer peace

   if not experience of its own wealth:

      its own wisdom fathomed;

So, why flee, my soul, the spot you see?

Fear returns me great riches, 

   far beyond any peace could ever give! 

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 30

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

When I Cry . . .

When I cry

God hears

And he wraps me in his arms

When I cry

God hears

And through my confusion

Bathes me in his own tears

Holding the frantic frayings

Of my mind

Gathering all their edges

Scattered wastelands he is

Understanding

Measuring all their weight

Comforting me

Through the inner oil that warms

When I cry

God hears

And soothed in his cradling passion

Love’s own hand tears my heart apart