She was not just a pretty orange to peel.Her vitamin c, drove back the mucus of icicles.
Hacking deeply like rusty faucets,
sputtering brown,
then yellow ,almost pasty clear.
She would not quit, come too far in the snow.
Open the oceans wide and you’ll find me.
In the arms of hope,
I’m finding my way to life….
Black Waters Spice,
You do something nice,
A comfy currant with cinnamons and cayenne.
Inside my Low-days,
Fishy-grey thoughts.
I do blame,
wash away with Lavender & Sage.
My black waters spice
I found my happy, smells good too…
Walking this path to share a common suffering,
that only the living know.
My feet found the puddles and I did not dance.
My eyes saw the rivers that I had not cross,
and no one can measure the beauty in letting go.
In step and stride, in the swampy holes ,
Out numbered by the trees.
They teach me to stand.
Without the arms that use to hold me
Stand,
Without a signal nor light
stay here
on this path,that you find,
right.
-Krissy Mosley
It was more than a sickness.
It was more than love,
more than,
fear and faith;
it was more than a date.
This thing and I;
more than still-toed shoes
dancing good bye.
God and I,
became lovers,
became joy,
became sweet buttermilk coffee
together without exasperation.
More than a swimmers smile
more than death, more than life,
I am a conqueror,
this God and I.
Poet: Krissy Mosley
Krissy Mosley Ministries 