Skinhorse Poetry: "Written"

She knew what she wanted to say
And she said it.

She wrote it in words for all to see.
But, dull, passing glances
Observe only the obvious.
And few know well how to attune
Soulful, comprehending eyes
Between the lines of what is written.

Written on her face
Was a longing for more—
More understanding and empathy.
More sharing of hearts.
More long hugs to help her feel
Connected.
Even short ones might do.

Written on her frame
Was the peculiar personal pattern
Of weathering
That which all must bear:
Heat.  Cold.  Storm.  Wind.
Urging, ever-urging, change.

Written on her sleeve
Was the pain that had taken its toll
After all those many years
When she was at once convinced
That everyone loved the idea of her,
And yet, no one loved her—really.

Written on her hands
Was the traced evidence of strength
From planting and lifting and building and such.
Unpreserved, weakened, from holding on
To so much that could have been let go,
Should have been let go,
So very long ago,
And Forgiven.

Written in her heart
Was the desire to become
Better than she had been—
A bearer of light and compassion.
Sounding a resonance of past days,
Understanding, finally, the meaning
Of all that had been, and is being,

Written.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Skinhorse Poetry: "The Empty Chair"

Large.
Rich in color.
Strong back.
Arms to support.
Residing place.
Presiding place.
Place of honor.
Place of grace.
Not unlike other
Chairs beside it.
And yet —
Yes, different.

Empty now.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Written during the funeral of President Gordon B. Hinckley, 15th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, on 2 Feb 2008.

Skinhorse Poetry: "The Sand of God’s Grace and Genius"

Quiet solitude, joyful rest,
Reveal the genius and the grace
Of Him who always loves me best,
Who moves the pallor from my face;

And touches me, a trav'ling soul,
With faith and fortitude aright
To reach beyond the shallow shoal,
Lending strength for the mortal fight—

Pressing me toward higher spheres
Where compassion doth overtake
All company of bitter tears,
Offering healing for my sake.

Heartened, take I Gilead's Balm:
Similitude of Sacrifice.
Caress hope in another's palm—
Deliv'rance from a wound-filled life.

Persuaded through that gentle touch,
Love undulates till ocean's end.
Dearth's want collapses under such.
Breadth, length, depth, height doth it transcend.

Now, truth prevails and is prolonged
In this wanderer come home to see;
God's grace and genius, like the sand,
Flows, unmeasured, in one like me.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Skinhorse Poetry: "The Path to Love"

Should love's limits
be defined
to exacting perimeters
so cautiously placed
by those who
fear
to search deeper,
reach farther,
risk more,
so that their hearts
might hurt less
in their so-called quest?

And in the discovery
of new love,
must there be
edges marked
and barriers raised
to show
only
the trodden path
where love's carefully
sowed garden ends
and unseen wildflowers
begin?

What shall it be then?
To keep the
respectful distance
and leave to imagination
where limits,
if there be any,
may lie?

Or defy
definitions
of love's limitations,
and challenge the distance--
believing,
and understanding also,
that only in the
stepping over of edges
and sharing of that which is
untrodden
does the truer path
to love
set in?

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Skinhorse Poetry: "Arms Which Encircle Us"

Behold the arms encircling us now—
Oh, those Glorious Arms!

Arms, which, remaining extended,
stay ready to receive and enfold us,
and with comfort sure,
share in the load we bear.

Arms, which, with constancy
of love and gentle kindnesses,
caress our troubled souls;
mercifully touching, warming,
resurrecting
the Hope of Divinity
that dwells within.

Arms, which, in honor
raised
echo sweet the proclamation,
“Be True to thine One Love”;
and, sending grace for nations yet to be,
open wide the veil that we, seeing,
might glance visions of eternity.

Oh, those Glorious Arms!
Strength of heaven,
providers of the Healer’s art,
laborers of righteousness,
witnesses of truth,
source of love abounding—
encircle us evermore
that our tears of joy fall softly
upon those Arms
in grateful adoration.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Skinhorse Poetry: "Where Did All the Forgiveness Go?"

This original poem and personal experience demonstrate that I am one who has been hurt and who has struggled enormously with forgiving another for that hurt. I do not dare claim that my experience is new, or feel my pain to be above that borne by another. Having said that, and while I have hesitated to do so, I finally decided to share a portion of my experience and learning here in the hope that it will be of some benefit to one, or to many, of you.

Where did all the forgiveness go?
Nowhere.
The same as all the apologies.

Yet to forgive—though forgiveness be not sought:
Is it not more glorious than the receipt of pleading?

Reveal thou, thy glory here.

In its place comes once more—Pain.
For, in turning the corner towards forgiveness
Another unsung apology groans out as a reminder
And nearly nothing rings more loudly
Than such a nothingness.

“Oh, how deep the wound!” she cries.
And cries.
And cries again.

Who could trace the path of tears,
Or find its ending point on the tear-streaked face?

- Jacqueline J. Hancock


Forgiving another is part of the soul’s requirement to undergo a “mighty change.” My own changing—though paltry in comparison to many—has inspired gratitude within. I understand that the making of a mighty change never really results in our reaching a destination; rather, it is a continuing process. Still, invisible chapter markers help point to critical crossroads.

Efforts made to help rid my heart of any unkind feelings towards one who had hurt me included attending aids that the Lord remarkably charted out for my benefit, revealing in no uncertain terms that He is aware of my needs. Through them, I was prepared to visualize a series of significant things.

First of all, one evening I lay in bed, alone in the darkness, yet very much awake. In this state, I was granted a vision of one particular person who had hurt me deeply and repeatedly so, standing far away from me and diminished in size, the way that artists portray people and things in the distance. Though we faced one another, it was clear that we could not be brought any closer. Almost immediately, and to my great surprise, there stood the Savior next to me. He looked into my eyes, though I could not bear to look into His. He asked me, “Is it not enough that I suffered for all hurts given here? Is there something else that you require? Is there more that I should do?” Tears filled my eyes—not in the vision, but in reality. I answered, even audibly, as I lay there alone in the darkness: “No, you have done all.” Of course His suffering is enough. Of course it is. But in weakness, I had not been able to find a way to fully accept His offerings.

Secondly, and following this former vision, I entered within the Mesa Temple. Before heading into an endowment session, I stopped and took a single piece of paper and pencil and wrote down the names of all those involved in my hurt at the time. I had completed this act many times before. This time, however, I included my own name. All names were, symbolically at least to me, placed upon the Temple altar while I was present there. At last, certain feelings swelled, enabling me to visualize standing peacefully WITH those who had hurt me. Again, tears filled my eyes.

Thirdly, I had a dream in the middle of the night. In my dream, this same particular person stood facing me, obviously troubled. We were within a mere few feet of one another then. An unexpected awareness ensued. Comprehending some of the feelings of hurt that I had inspired myself, I moved towards this person, whom I then compassionately wrapped my arms around long enough to tell how very sorry I was to have contributed any pain.

The dream ended there. No final page was revealed in this chapter of my experience as I dreamed. As time has passed, it has been made clear that the story is still being written, whether in daytime or nighttime hours.

Who could trace the path of tears,
Or find its ending point on the tear-streaked face?

There is only One, and that One is the Savior. The tears have been traced. They are known. Gratefully, the tears have their ending point as well. The pain is becoming more and more soothed by The Balm of Gilead. What comfort this Balm brings.

Some things are certain. We all hurt within ourselves for wrongs committed against us, even grievous wrongs. We all manage to hurt one another, sometimes without even intending to do so. Whichever way our experiences may lead us, we all are in a position to seek and receive forgiveness. Finally, we all struggle with seeking and extending forgiveness.

Yet, if we are to be made right with the Lord, then we will necessarily have to forgive those who have wronged us—even if they never ask for our forgiveness! I think, though, that the Lord understands that everyone’s timetable is different. He says we must forgive; he does not say that we must forgive NOW. Still, it is to our own advantage that we get ourselves set on the right track towards forgiveness, allowing space for it when it comes. As we attune ourselves more and more with the Lord’s purposes, we will find our spiritual speed quicken enough to fully renew our walk with Him.

If you struggle still to forgive, may you begin anew the process of undergoing a mighty change of heart. May you indeed forgive another of their wrongs towards you—not because they need it or deserve it—but because the Lord stands between you and them, asking if His suffering is enough to cover it all.

Please read THE PEACEGIVER by James L. Ferrell for a more thorough spiritual comprehension of the subject of forgiveness. My repeated readings of this book helped to prepare me for some of my own personal experiences.

Skinhorse Poetry: "HOPE"

Before and after each fall of evening,
Before and after each dark and turbulent storm,
Abides the One
Whose love doth shine

H o p e

Into every watchful eye.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock


Please watch this "Ray of Hope" slideshow

with music by Secret Garden: THE PROMISE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stNT4X2BZtE

Skinhorse Poetry: "I'd Like to Capture a Rainbow"

I'd like to capture a rainbow
And stick it in a big box
So that,
Anytime you wanted to,
You could reach in and pull out
A piece of sunshine.

I’d like to build you a mountain
That you could call your very own—
A place to find serenity
In those times when you
Feel the need to be
Closer to yourself, or to God.

I’d like to be the one
Who’s there with you when you’re
Lonely or troubled
Or you just need
Someone
To hold on to.

I’d like to do all this and more
To make your life happy.

But sometimes
It isn’t easy to do
The things I would like to do
Or give the things I would
Like to give.

So . . . until I learn how to
Catch rainbows and build mountains,
Let me do for you
That which I know best . . .

. . . Let me simply be your friend.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock


SKINHORSE:
In the early 1980s, I sold this poem to Blue Mountain Arts Company. They subsequently used it to make a card; later, it was included in a calendar and a book. Since then, I have discovered this poem has been published on several websites, often with words altered. Imagine my surprise and great honor to recently discover it had been included as part of the obituary of a cherished mother of 16 children:

Roark, Laura -a model mother, entered eternal life August 30,1991. She was born June 19, 1907 into the family of Jeff and Mary Jane Halcomb Caudill, in Letcher County. Laura was married to John D. Roark, who preceded her in death. Laura reared sixteen children. This in itself would qualify her as a superwoman. Of these sixteen children, ten were her biological offspring. She was a member of the Defeated Creek Old Regular Baptist Church, wherein she had been a member for approximately thirty-five years. Mama was an obedient servant of God and cherished her fellowship in the Old Regular Baptist Association. Mama believed and proclaimed that Jesus was the solution to all problems. She never failed to express His wondrous ways and to recommend him as a savior for her children and others. Mother had a wish that she echoed often, her wish to die in the spirit of the Lord. We, the children, other family members, and Christian friends, were by her bedside when she died. I feel that her obedience and devotion to God contributed to her wish being granted, because we witnessed spiritual events that convinced me that Mama died in the spirit of the Lord. I feel that this eloquent passage from Jacqueline J. Hancock echoes Mama's thoughts, especially for her children. "I'd like to be the one who's there with you when you're lonely or troubled or you just need someone to hold on to. I'd like to do all this and more to make your life happy. But sometimes, it isn't easy to do the things I would like to do or give the things I would like to give," so trust in God. Submitted by her children. http://www.knottkentuckykinfolk.com/orb_indian_bottom/1992_2.htm