These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Growth of Purplest Heath

How often when I'm feeling sad,
I walk away from you.
The words I wrote have made me glad,
to give perspective new.

Forsaking my dear writing place,
I run away and hide.
The mountain vistas of Your Grace
they met me as I cried.

The Oklahoma Panhandle,
a child's place all alone.
The darkish walk with one candle,
a safe place when I'm grown.

How can I write when sadness reigns?
Where is Atlantic isle,
that helps me blest perspectives gain
to break from me denial?

The writing helps when sadness falls
to lift me from despair.
I cannot breathe 'til a new word calls,
and breaks my lasting stare.

A planet, far away from here,
in rocket ship so fast
the town of Joe 'N Tea, it's clear
is one great day's repast.

I find another town to walk
and trip o'er one great joy
to paint with feet, and hands, and talk
with my own heartfelt boy.

Though sadness lingers as I write
in the land of murky woe,
He leads me home out of the night
with rest as on I go.

The seas are filled with salty tears.
The mind, a desert blows,
th'unwritten feelings are great fears,
the nighttime morbid grows.

The written thoughts an ember lights.
The fire from hopeful breath
moves back the darkness with respite
the growth of purplest heath.

by Jay O’Toole
on July 9th, 2024