Becoming

Hum

Every step takes me somewhere new.

I cannot go where I have been;

Always, always, I am building who I am

With the materials around me,

Discarding this,

Reworking that,

Becoming.

The road little matters,

For it is what I do with it

That will bring me

One step at a time

To my Destiny.

The Journey

 

Boulton Bridge trail forest

Sometimes the path I walk upon

is bathed in golden sun,

Meanders through bright meadows

Where pure streams of water run.

Sometimes a fog obscures the view,

And rocks and thorns prevail,

The gradient makes progress slow,

Or rings with rain and hail.

Both are crucial to my road,

Both must have their place –

To one, I owe refreshment,

The other, strength and grace.

So whether I am stepping light

Or struggling as I roam,

I know each bend and every climb

Will bring me closer home.

Exhale

sunflower

 

Her head hangs

by a thread

eyes scanning dirt

as if to seek the soul

hidden under a crust

of regret

The burden of proof

on burdened shoulders

grips her gaze

with enough gravity

to tie her eyes to earth

but oh! humble heart,

you cannot outweigh

grace

you cannot sink

beneath it

or plod past it

or hang low enough

to mar its magnificence

So look up

set your eyes

beyond this sin-stained soil

to the air beyond

your reach

for it is here

that grace

exhales

 

Illuminated

hoarfrostonpotentilla

Forgive me.

I so often forget

that Light is but a

prayer away;

I bump around

clumsy

feeling my way

in so dark a place,

and I forget

that this journey

is not mine

to run the gauntlet

solitary,

but

Illuminated…

He Spins His Wheels

wheel

He spins his wheels in sinking sand,

getting nowhere fast;

he wonders where the hours went,

and why he’s always last.

Directions skewed, momentum clipped,

his focal point in sight –

how will he get to going spot

if he can’t see the light?

*

We could all use a little light – is yours shining today?

Clear This Path

Life can be – messy.

Confusing.

Complicated.

The path we tread

is often concealed by debris

left behind from the Fall.

It’s so easy to lose our way

when we are afraid to wade in,

engage with the  mayhem,

combat the clutter,

step on things that crunch

or go bump in the night.

But

if you hold my hand,

and I pin my heart to my sleeve,

we just might

muddle our way through.

Turn the tables on turmoil.

Clear this path.

Together.