I want to believe in rest, the kind that found me on the mountain ~ soft and supple and scary to step into like fog on the ridge that would surely give way if I lay down the heaviness of me.
Rest is so like trust that way.
But I wanted rest.....needed it my molecules charged with rush, jarred to attention, soul strings strung tight and plucked hard, plinking shrill, too fast,
feeling broken down and hungry for rest with no way to feed it. ~help~ And in that quiet breeze it came as I sat on a stone that had clung to mountainside for longer than I'd known air, sunning myself like a sleepy newt, I began to remember what I'd forgotten to love, brave songs long quiet inside myself and I began to hum
Rest me again till I’m mellow and peace
songs from my belly flowing free
Strum these heartstrings sweet and low
till they play effortless the music of me.
“The question begs, do we appease those who would laugh at us,
or touch those who will remember our song
and help them to remember theirs?” -Brooke Meservy