Sometimes it cuts through sudden, the blade of old ache,
so sharp it slices into the tender parts of who we are;
funny how a season soaked in merry-making
can shake loose the pain,
send it fumbling from where it lay buried alive
and this, too, is gift
because sometimes in the wreckage we settle too soon
and the nails we drive to prop us up
can become the cages we can’t shake
But river Love, she keeps rolling
a healing, cleansing tide,
a swell of saving connection
showing the worth and weight of our life
And river she holds the strength and supply, the secrets, the stories, the songs,
pulsing and swirling and telling
you are cherished and seen….you belong.
What if we don’t numb it back down, braveheart,
when low thunder of grief starts to roll
remember what our true selves long for,
feel again what our hearts used to know
we were born for those wild living waters
so whatever the season may bring
just lean, really lean,
simply lean your way in,
wade out from the shoreline or leap into the deep,
Love is the river and keeper and giver
even when all is not merry or bright.
Lean into it.
“Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving
that transcends time and space.”
I want to give away a copy of my December issue of Ripplesongs,
the holiday issue.
Leave a comment and you’re in for the drawing:)
With a whole lot of love.