posted July 12, 2006 04:10 PM         

You tried to walk the razor's edge
Instead you walked the plank
Split yourself in two
And to the depths you sank

Found yourself in pieces there
At the bottom of the sea
Tried to stitch them back to one
Oh, so patiently

Walked around like Frankenstien
Who on earth could understand
You were made imperfectly
By some perfect hand

Found again inside a church
Patrons clamoured to get in
Opened up the doors so wide
"Welcome Home," you said to sin

Soon the place was overful
Walls went down, and all was good
Now the sun shines everywhere
And wind blows where the walls once stood

Running with the wind, who knows
Where it comes from, where it goes
Circling in the open spaces
Out of doors and out of places
Free, but somehow still encumbered
shedding everything but graces

posted July 15, 2006 04:12 AM         

Is she happy, who can say?
Who can tell at a moment in time
When the heart would like to rhyme
With what the head would like to say.
Is she happy, I can only try
To make her smile while she lays
In the little pink basket as she plays
I know how I love, not why.

I don't remotely know why HSC but your piece made me think of one I wrote when I looked at my new baby daughter in her cot. I don't often write poetry (I'm not very good at it, better at stories.)
Yours are wonderful, I always look out for your writings on here.
God bless!