There’s been a cold wind blowing,
a shivery ache
that gnaws through some hope
and teases  my heart why don’t you close up
tight like a fist and numb that pain down.

But I don’t want to miss even love wrapped in sorrow
in this messy business of living
and walk around like a woman without hope
because that would be a lie
and living true is where the real magic swirls
miracles and mystery
like chunks of lime
and honey in my tea.

So I open wide,
stretching awake to the sweetest dream
as I drop down into the delicious presence
of heaven breathing right inside my belly
and my mind sits down hard so my heart can soar
as I put my head down on the floor
and let
hope
be.

~it isn’t what it seems,
this in-between,
even when it frays like rope in weather;
becoming can be a jumble,
sometimes an uphill dribble
so lean in,
open wide
and let hope sing.

 

 

This post is about some mama-longing in my heart
that feels like winter-weary waiting
for the Spring.
Are you in a place like that,  too?
Hope and patience,  baby.
The brightest blooms
have a “suddenly” way about them.

“You are the fire that burns out my cold
you’re the warm light in this winter-weary soul…”

-just a song i’m singing