There’s been a cold wind blowing,
a shivery ache
that gnaws through some hope
and teases my heart why don’t you close up
tight like a fist and numb that pain down.
But I don’t want to miss even love wrapped in sorrow
in this messy business of living
and walk around like a woman without hope
because that would be a lie
and living true is where the real magic swirls
miracles and mystery
like chunks of lime
and honey in my tea.
So I open wide,
stretching awake to the sweetest dream
as I drop down into the delicious presence
of heaven breathing right inside my belly
and my mind sits down hard so my heart can soar
as I put my head down on the floor
~it isn’t what it seems,
even when it frays like rope in weather;
becoming can be a jumble,
sometimes an uphill dribble
so lean in,
and let hope sing.
This post is about some mama-longing in my heart
that feels like winter-weary waiting
for the Spring.
Are you in a place like that, too?
Hope and patience, baby.
The brightest blooms
have a “suddenly” way about them.
“You are the fire that burns out my cold
you’re the warm light in this winter-weary soul…”
-just a song i’m singing