It’s been bliss to make nice again
with early mornings,
to raise my hands into still dark sky
and wiggle free,
unloading heavy things
into hands so warm and open and available
they tug the sun up through the woods
while the birds prattle joy
and candles burn slow,
flickering pear and patchoulli
and I take it in hungry
and my body knows the smile of Love
hugging me close
and grinning at my freedom
with knowing nod
….getting me
and eyes dancing welcome,
anyway.
It’s good to be welcome,
embraced by day,
and there is somewhere for the anger to go,
angry about those horses harmed
and that mom spitting meanness at her boy
and all the hurtful wrong schmeared on thick and painful
and when I need to lay my mind down
on something soft and tender-strong
and remember the shepherd thing
and take in faithfulness wrapped in skin
and hear “yeah, it’s bad, but I’ve got this”,
even when my stomach screams hard
for justice and change,
and my hands burn to throw rocks
at everything cruel,
to stone it until the rage drains off
and my heart goes all peaceable again,
I can dance on it,
paint and sing and shout and say it out
in stuff You take as prayer
so I’m making friends again
with mornings early
and for this tired heart of mine
it’s. pure. bliss.
