I want to believe in rest,
the kind that found me on the mountain
~ soft and supple
 and scary to step into
like fog on the ridge
that would surely give way
if I lay down
the heaviness of me.

Rest is so like trust that way.

 But I wanted rest.....needed it
 my molecules charged with rush,
jarred to attention,
 soul strings strung tight
and plucked hard,
plinking shrill,
too fast,

feeling broken down and hungry for rest
with no way to feed it.

~help~



And in that quiet breeze it came
as I sat on a stone
that had clung to mountainside
for longer than I'd known air,
sunning myself like a sleepy newt,

 I began to remember 
what I'd forgotten to love,
brave songs long quiet inside myself
and I began to hum

Rest me again till I’m mellow and peace
songs from my belly flowing  free
Strum  these heartstrings sweet and low
till they  play effortless the music of me.

“The question begs, do we appease those who would laugh at us,
or touch those who will remember our song
and help them to remember theirs?” -Brooke Meservy