the turning

morning light.jpg

When I remember
To give you the first fruits of my morning,
When I turn my mind, my heart,
First to your call,
Silencing the pull of other voices,
That is when my heart finds home.

Why, then, do I neglect this turning?

Who knows?
Who needs to know?
These questions just delay the turning.

It’s not about fixing me.
It’s about finding you.

So … I tilt my head,
I tilt my heart,
To listen.

And there you are.
I hear what I cannot quite hear.
I know what I cannot really know.
I find, despite my fears,
That I do believe in you.

I believe just enough to cuddle my soul
Within your whisper.
I believe just enough to breathe with you.

In and out,
We exchange the thread of life.
In and out,
You cleanse my heart of dread,
And seed my hope.

And so these three arrive with my turning
Faith, hope, and love.
Your love, of course, is what evokes my own.
And mine must follow, once I turn and see.

Good morning, Holy One.
Thank you.

[photo by Susanne Nilsson per cc 2.0]

the ugly narcissus

narcissus.jpg

How long have I looked into this pool,
Watching that image for change
Hoping it would grow a bit brighter,
A bit more worthy?

How long has my hand been stayed
Just above the water
Wanting, desperately, to fix the faults
Within the image floating there?

How long?

Isn’t it time to let the ugly be
To look away from the wrongs that seem so glaring
To live, rather than to be frozen with regret
To move away from the pool into the day?

I’ll never fix that face
Nor find perfection there.
I’ll never even modify the expression on that face
By looking in the water.

The trap is not the beauty or the lack thereof
But the fixation on the image
And the fantasy that perfection
Is the necessary first step toward acceptance.

But … what is that?
A movement other than my own within the pool
A hand upon my shoulder
A face besides my own looks up at me.

The look within those eyes
As they gaze on my reflection
Seem filled with tears of love.
They drop into the pool and blur the vision there.

The spell is broken.
Narcissus turns and is wrapped in an embrace so full
That all preoccupation is lost in deepest consolation.

[image by cea + per cc 2.0]

Wisdom

wise eyes.jpg

Wisdom is anchored in love.

You cannot really see anything
Until you risk loving it,
Until you can see its inner self –
And God, herself, deeper still.

For deep within all,
Is the ALL that called it into being;
And calls it still, to bring it to its essence,
Just as I am called and refined
In and through deep love.

Wisdom is seeing with God’s eyes.

[photo by Johnny Silvercloud per cc 2.0]

 

the list

the list.jpg

So, it looks like I am going to have to come up with
some new excuses for procrastination.

My ‘to do’ list has been altered by the need to stay home.

And now, I am beginning to see,
That the list is not all that has been altered.
The ‘needs’ behind the list have changed, as well.
Some have changed by circumstance,
And some by a dawning realization
That they were really not so urgent to begin with.

So, rather than berate myself,
I am taking a deep breath
And making a different list.

I ask myself,
What stories do I want to be able to tell,
When this is all over?

The new list starts there.
And maybe its a ‘to be’ list
Rather than a ‘to do’ list:
To be the grace I hope to see in the world.
To hold to hope so others can hold on, as well.
To offer kindness, even from a distance.
To let myself be held in the arms of God
Even when other embraces are the virtual kind.

Even in this moment, we look for evidence of love.
That is the story we must tell,
That is the story we must echo with our actions, this day.
That is the story I hold to be most deeply true.

[photo by john.schultz per cc 2.0]

Rising

sunrise.jpg

That red ribbon on the horizon
Is a sign of your coming.
Already you are rising to the day.
Already your hope comes.
Already the arms of the trees reach for you.
Already my heart yearns,

And you come.

You will come to me each morning
Tiptoeing over the curve of the earth
Smiling in the ever-increasing light
Until, one day,
My eyes will be closed to the sunrise.
That day,
I will be be tiptoeing over the curve of eternity
Into your arms.

[photo by kingkubby per cc 2.0]

delight

gossamer wings.jpg
For me,
delight may be
the surest evidence
of God.

That eternal smile
makes it possible
to grasp my days
and venture forth
with courage.

There is
within delight
a firm assurance
that all will,
indeed,
be well.

And I can breathe again.

So, I keep an eye out for delight
and hear God’s chuckle when it shows itself
amid the rubble of my days
like a geode broken to the light.

My own heart laughs when I see it,
hidden in plain sight
already there when I turn my eyes.

The laughter of my soul
breaks down my fear
and blows away despair
like feathers in that holy wind.

 

[photo by Chris A per cc 2.0]

learning to dance

dance steps.jpg

It’s such a silly dance I dance,
Trying to decide if its you or me
Who takes each step, within the flow.
So, thinking too hard about the steps,
I stumble.

I forget that dancing is less about my feet,
And more about the music.
My focus, once again, awry.

Only, on occasion,
The beauty takes me from myself.
I find that I am whirling in your arms,
Alight with joy, full of you,
And … fully me.

I do not lose myself.
I loose myself,
When I turn my attention
From my feet
To your embrace.

Then, I find the music
And I can dance.

 

[photo by DrewToYou per cc 2.0]