There is a table where I’ve waited
in the corner of my heart,
where this girlish hope peered hard
for hurried, anxious eyes to stop and meet with mine,
and it felt sometimes like starving,
wishing they’d look at me and smile.
Somehow I learned to worry that maybe the heavy thing
that dragged the sparkle from those eyes
So I tried to help harder
and care harder
and work harder
and wait harder…
thank God it doesn’t work:)
Because another’s mood isn’t our mirror,
their struggle doesn’t say who we are,
their feelings aren’t our portion,
and this dark table in the corner
isn’t where we have to spend our precious days
so I’m painting, re-purposing and moving it on out,
into the light,
and it seems as if someone has opened a window
(was that there all along?)
and swirled drops of breeze and sunlight
into some closed off spaces
and it feels like my first taste of ice cream,
and I breathe sweet that the grin that I’m hungry for
is shining deep into my heart from my own smiling eyes.
(this little patch of words is simply
about self-care and soul-tending
in some of the weedy parts of my garden.)
“I am not referring to acts of love, kindness, compassion, and true helping
-situations where our assistance is legitimately wanted and needed
and we want to give that assistance.
These acts are the good stuff of life.
Rescuing or caretaking isn’t.”
I’m taking this month of August
to rest my soul
by writing more
( I know, not less…..go figure)
and coming around daily to post
the stuff that’s stirring in my heart.
You’re oh so welcome to drop in when you can.