I want to see sweetness instead of shortness
in the brief breath of butterfly days,
to taste the seeds of next summer in the last slice of melon
and to believe in restoration even as angry words tumble out on top of themselves.
I want to honor aliveness that way,
to believe that being is more than doing,
seeing is more than proving,
beauty is more than pretty
and that the oppressed are touched by grace each time we pray,
praying even fierce comfort into their suffering,
comfort that defies understanding,
angels whispering living things that slice right through the torment
and that no one ever, ever suffers
It’s hard to hear the horror….to let it rake across your soul harsh
until your coals burn gray and ashe,
but I will believe that it matters what our hearts cry out,
that we can hurl our voices into the universe
and they’re heard.
For the lonely, for the stolen, for the terrified,
we can release penetrating light and it makes a difference.
We are not helpless;
keep the fire in your belly burning bright.
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it are many dark places;
but still there is much that is fair, and though in all the lands love is
now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
and unmuddled joy, fresh from the oven in my little etsy store
if you’d like a
copy to have and hold and hopefully share)