Happy freshborn hope,
fierce bounty of more-than-enoughness
breaking through debt so dark and deep and despairing
that the hollow cave seems to bellow out a fountain of light
all shimmering like jellybeans and jazz;
turning bitter waters sweet again
as burden-flinging, freebird-singing Love
draws near to heal and nuzzle,
freeing mind, untangling puzzle,
the music down inside rumbling low
until it’s rising and riffing a ruckus of joy,
this big tenderness swallowing up the whole of my shame,
with all that resurrection running through my fingers
grubby from the stain and paint and chocolate and soil of living
and it doesn’t matter, never mattered,
because still I can lean in and listen to living love
rain feather soft over my hunger
until I melt and mellow
like yellow peeps over a campfire
into the warm embrace of strong shepherd arms
and how this soothes and softens and settles and solutions
raising me from the dead stuff I’ve believed
and loving me back to life
in all my parts and places.
I disappeared for a week, didn’t I.
It’s planting season and I’m dawn to dusk dirty and sore and just a tad overwhelmed.
It will pass.
And, hey I’d love to send a copy of the April issue of my Ripplesongs
to whichever name I draw from the comments you leave this week.
Everloving thanks for rolling through the changes with me:)