Of prickles, pain and portals….

Sometimes into life’s overwhelm
come soft days so thick with grace
it seems the volume gets turned up
on your joy
and drowns out some prickle,
shaking dance back into tired feet
’til your heart starts taking on hope
as heaven storms down light so fierce
that it swallows up the dark.

When you’re not in that place,
when all you feel is the cave you crawled in,
bone tired and seeking shelter,
and the gloom works it’s way on your soul
’til you’re hungry for good air and tall sky,
but you feel as small
as the yelp
that gets stuck
in the dry
of your voice,

(I know this place)

oh please remember that it’s there
still and always,
along the backroads of your mind,
and you can go again to that moment
when the darkness got sliced through, peeling back some dread
to free the warm buttery peace of something realer than you can see
and you saw some living light
until it smiled courage into your frightened places.

You felt it then.  Remember?
You were maybe still a child and yet you stood beneath a portal
to that sweet someplace and you felt it,
the gentle, un-driven purpose
of being profoundly
and undeniably
okay.

You’re brave enough to let your heart remember.

Open wide and go again – it’s unlocked to you still,
that door so uniquely gift to you.
You’re welcome,  known,  and waited for with great affection there
– go stand again in that place
and let Love sing her songs all over you again.

You belong,  the starry heavens whisper,
you belong.

“There’s a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
– Leonard Cohen

A little re-share,  here.   Nothing fresh to offer but these leftovers heat up well:)
Congrats to Elaine Kean of Elk – your name came up in the giveaway
and I’ll be putting your art journal on a fast pony and sending her your way.
With a whole heap of joy and yes:)
I’ll give away another this week – oh please keep tending that beautiful soul of yours.
Leave a comment and you’re in the drawing.

again with the hope….

freak flag
There’s a fierce little word fluttering around in my heart
and I want to bring it to you like a gift I’d leave at your door
in an old blue bottle that I bought  for a dime,
washed of decades of dust and disappointment,
and filled with fresh water and a single surprising flower
whispering one single word
“again”

because sometimes hope needs to be recycled,  too,

and I want you to notice it in your lovely wings,
the divine quiver pulsing softly,
calling gently,
crying out,  dear braveheart,
dare again.

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That thing you wished,  once upon a time
….wished it so hard it hurt?
wish it again.
knock and ask and call again,
imagine again,
dream again,
dig and plant and believe again

Open again to the flickers of firsts,
soften again to possibility,
because it’s the stuff that bliss is made of
to let your heart go wilding for it’s true song.

I’m hearing it strong in the whispering winds,
defy the disappointment,
Go again.

Hear?
Listen again.

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My mama always said life was  like a box of chocolates.
You never know what you’re gonna get.”
-Forrest Gump

The winner of the drawing for my little monthly zine,  Ripplesongs July
(giving me SO much joy,  this)
is Michele Bergh,
webmaster extraordinaire:)
Package on it’s way,  dear one!

Leave a comment and I’ll pull another name
from another hat
next week
(I love this stuff)