Elizabeth Rains Johnson

Nashua, NH, USA

Elizabeth has been writing for 20 years and is also working on a manuscript. Elizabeth won the 1986 Golden Poet Award form Poetry World Magazine and was published in their anthology. She has also been published and recorded by The National Library of Poetry. She states, "My journey is not near over, and, in the years to come, I pray that my heart remains open to love and compassion. To live a life of balance, that my inner voice is the same as outer voice and will not thunder over me. May I find courage along this spiritual journey."

Sonnets To My Love
XXXVII

You've been gone so long, yet my grief is ever strong.
Years passed swiftly, and somehow time stands alone.
Day into day, year into year; my thoughts to you belong.
Into the heavens your spirit has flown.
Your love of life stood ever so tall;
The petal of a flower, a sweet melodious tune,
The whistle of the wind, the tiniest waterfall.
Your delight in the rising of the crescent shaped moon.
Would that sound of your voice call me once more
Or may I feel the comfort of your warm embrace,
Though you walk through the gates of God's own door,
I can feel you beside me, a smile upon your face.
And so dear Mother, I miss you so much;
I long for the day I can rejoice in your touch.

XXXVIII

Here my friend is my gift to thee;
From within my palm shall spring eternal kinship.
Like the sweet song of the nightingale it is free.
You captured the very essence of our friendship.
And, set in its freedom of flight, we soar o'er the earth.
So, as in the hour of my greatest need
You gave unto me, heaping my hearth
With lasting embers of the joyous deed.
Filling me with fragrant life day after day;
My cup o'erflows, and emptiness is gone.
I have been starved when you fed my soul, and pray
I can return the same as we walk anon.
You asked naught in exchange, and to all I shall cry,
That the God of our Earth, shines through your eyes.

IX

Once into my life you came;
To invade my heart and cleave the very essence from me.
Wrapped around my soul, the vitality is never tame.
To this end we stand at last . . . the fire is free.
Turned loose, its embers burst into flames.
Ah . . . it is as boundless as the loft sky.
Truly, the enchantment of my soul you claim,
And hold within your palm the will to try
To uncork the mind; breathe, and give this love
The fine age of a richly fermented wine.
Slowly we spread like the wings of the dove,
And float on the breeze, pendulous in time.
Your love, your pain, is so entwined
And, like a flower, unfolds into mine.