What I Know

It's a love letter.
This whole world is a love letter from God...

To me

In it secrets fold in on themselves,

waiting to untangle for the soul who stops long for the second glance,

long enough for the question to gather itself from the mists of the mind,

"I want to know..." it whispers

And He hears and he leads because he knows once I See the answer I will Know His Love

And so a path is staked through the wild woods,

a path forged to ReMake me as the person I will need to be to live the answer of the question I am.

And because I trust, I walk into the dim musk of the shadowed forest.

It is here I am re-turned, re-formed, re-visioned

until the hazy shadows begin to thin and light dapples the mossy floor

and I walk toward the brightness to the place where I began

but now, as it is said, I know it for the first time.

The kaleidoscope has turned and the pieces have fallen

and the secret has unfolded into Manifest Glory

 

and I am the answer and no longer the question,

 

and He knew this would happen,

that  all I can see is Love refracted over and over all around me,

painting my face in its stained glass glory..

And that's how I know,
that's how I know this world is a love letter

From Him
To me.

To me.

The Summer Solstice, or the Fulfillment of Promise

There are people strewn across the green lawn
They are draped in flowing gowns

But there is  no trace of Victorian refinement here
These are the people of the earth.

Upon their heads
flowers woven through
circles of willow
Blooming crowns
Alive with the scent of blossoms
I hear the lilting melodies of a flute somewhere

Children
Looking more like fairies
Ring laughter in and out of
Nature so lush and green
She hides them completely

Gaia is queen today
The human spirit pays reverence
To her beauty
Knowing the summer solstice
is her Day in the Sun

There is a soft joy pulsing
Through this place
Harsh tones, the battle cry of the hurried and worried
Are not heard here tonight
The only thing I can think

Is that I don't deserve to be here.
My eyes ache to turn themselves from such unabashed beauty
I am too messy for such grace
I have thrown too many of those harsh words
as I bumbled my way through the day
overwhelmed and confused by little ones tired screams
These people feel like a different species to me

But there is something else
I hear it threading it's way through self deprecating thoughts
"It only takes a seed..."

Surrounded by green promises
Spiraling wildly from a
seed desire
buried
in earth darkness
I am living in the midst of God’s classroom and the lesson today is this

God only asks that we offer the seed of what is desired
And grace will grow that seed
Unfold that promise into its spilling beauty
Tonight…here… I walk
In a garden of promises
And now I hear it again

The whisper winding through thought
"You
are a garden of promises
made full
by your faith"

The flower crowns upon flower souls, gentle and beautiful, delicate and fragrant in their love
...unfold that promise...

And on this, the longest night of the year, alive with the ceremonial rhythm of drum and the haunting notes of wind given voice ,
…A garden of promises…
among the flower people dancing their worship for the great privilege of living in this garden we call Earth,
…Made full by your faith…

I am feeling that maybe
Just maybe
…It takes only a seed…
I will one day dance among them

She Wore Pink Today

Pale  pink
Runs smooth
On her skin
Her hair swept swiftly away
Firmly told
To stay in place
So that the sea
Kept in her eyes
Can shimmer
Its secrets
So her neck
Arching
Can offer
its supple grace
So that as she dances her story
and her beauty,
Painting herself across my eyes,
I can see her Smile.

Dear Sister

Dear sister,
I remember.
I remember who we are together, what the love that binds us looks like when it flows into this world.
Imagination, love for what each of us contributes, playfulness, ,inspiration.
When we played, when we created together, it was like riding a magnificent wave and we were dancing on top.
We did not meet with expectation or comparison or social etiquettes. There were no wrong or rights with us. There was only time stretching long before us asking to be filled.
We were queens of our realm, sister, and no one else ever entered. We tried, but no one ever did...

I know you know the story of our parting from your place standing young as I flung far childhood's crown and walked away forever.

They were cruel you know, about our games. Imagination and heart are liabilities in the real world.
Most people called that my growing up.
But what I know was that that was my growing closed, drawing heavy curtain down on the voices of heart that spoke lively in the mind. It became lonely so I replaced them with everyone else's voices and you'd think that would make it feel full but it was even lonelier.
It would lead me into a moment in college where I would put pen to blank paper, try to lay down heart as black ink and the great expanse of empty white would ask me to feel but I couldn't and I would have cried if I could have but the river had long run dry.

But Sister, my river flows now, and the fields are beginning to green again. It moves through the chest and down the face at the brazen beauty that paints itself across this world.
The voices are back too, my voices. They help me create worlds again. They help me play again.
And there is a happy ending to this story, because in the losing I Know what was lost and when Found there appeared a depth unknown before.

It has meant alot of time alone with those voices learning to Hear all over again.

But I remember sister. And when we create together, when we painted birds against sunset and I watched the pink feather through your gold as everyone else doggedly tried to wash brush to ensure it didn't happen to theirs, I watched you softly play with it and it inspired me...
I felt the wave call again.

I know my river will make waves again because I am returning to our realm, cleaning cobwebs, placing tarnished crown upon head once more

and I hold this wish dear and true sister
That when the dust of adult life settles we will return there together again, not as the children we were but as who they dreamed they would be.

Return of the Sun(son)

Easter Sunday

In Christian belief, The Son Day.

Renewal.

Rebirth.

Resurrection.

A time to peel back the lid

And See in a new way.

Re-Vision

First,

The autumnal harvest on which we feasted

Filled ourselves brimming

On the experiences, the desires of yesterday

Then the winter rest

The cocoon

Darkness wrapping itself around

Digesting us

Bathing us in the prophecies

Of what the feast of yesterday will become

It pulls us from the inside out

To Re-form

in the image of Our Heart's Longing

And then

pupa splits

Wings of tomorrow unfold

To take us to our destiny

What was only Promise Yesterday

We Become Today

Winged Glory

Let us Re-Joy-ce