doubt
moves in like a cloud
obscuring the sun.
it does not make the sun wrong
or mean it’s not there.
for clouds come and go
but the sun is yours
your whole life long.
Author: face2facewiththesky
anything can be poetry if you're brave enough.
what waits within
where is the grief
inside you living?
what waits within
like song inside a bird
what seizes your heart
in spasms of fear and glory
waiting, waiting
to be heard?
tell me, tell anyone, tell someone
even if only
in the faintest of whispers
until you touch the place inside
where grief melts into music.
to the artist of spirit
your art is the roots.
let it lie dark
and rich like the mud.
your breath
is your navigator.
show others the way through their breath
their limbs
their movements
make them like trees
make them bright as stars.
let go of “purpose.”
do it because it moves you.
someday is not your concern
for your time is now.
in time
your shallows shall swell
with the tide.
what you have so heavily resisted
shall become your bread and butter
and the heaviest burdens upon your back
shall become your ballasts.
go.
move.
it is the only way
if you are to light the way forward.
rooting
child
no matter how deeply
you have been wounded
remember:
one day a seed
will come along
take root exactly
where it hurts the most
slumber
in darkness until
you open up
and allow enough light
to reach it;
once you do that
nothing will stop
its furious
motion
its transformation
of dark matter
into something altogether
unexpected.
imaginings
All of the things people have ever imagined. Dreamed. Rehearsed. Envisioned. Without actually doing them. All the books half written, or unwritten. Songs unsung. Dances never danced. Where do they go?
Is there a home for them somewhere?
That’s what God is to me. A home for our imaginings.
a secret
if you would know
the secret to healing
it is this:
the answer
lies not
in despair.
it is what it is.
Because it is.
That’s why.
This is the life you were given.
It has meaning simply because it exists.
Don’t run from it.
Face it.
Face the ugly parts,
the beautiful parts,
and especially the parts
that are beautiful and ugly at the same time.
Don’t try to reason with it.
Life does what it wants.
It won’t ask for your opinion,
and worrying won’t alter its course.
Life chooses us.
Our own choice lies in response, not in circumstance.
There is comfort in realizing you don’t have to orchestrate it all.
Given time, most things take care of themselves.
When we feel we have been denied something,
we miss what we have been given.
Honor:
the wound, not the victimhood;
the emotions, not the drama;
the pain, not the resistance to it.
Your coordinates in time and space are merely a starting point.
More important than what you make of it
is how you allow it to move you;
what you allow to bridge the gap
between form and possibility.
off to work (note to self)
I will try not to think about the hours
or count down the minutes.
If I need a rest, I will take one, whether it’s an actual break, a deep breath, or a gesture of
self-compassion.
If I need stimulation, I will seek it in a healthy way in the moment.
If I get bored, I will remember that it is my responsibility to engage an element of
interest.
If I encounter a challenge, I will trust myself and have confidence that I can handle it,
step by step.
If I want the day to be over already, I will bring my attention deeply into acceptance of
the present moment.
If the present moment contains discomfort, I will hold it and be with it rather than
push it away.
what if
what if
pain isn’t always wrong
tired isn’t always bad
boredom isn’t wasted time
what if
life isn’t about
feeling good
but about
finding meaning
what if
you create meaning
simply by
accepting discomfort
what if
no longer expecting
to feel good
is strangely liberating
what if
you can just rest
knowing that
who you are
where you are
exactly how you are
is just right.
what comes alive for you
What comes to life
at your touch
What meets your eyes
and looks back?
In what do you breathe
the breath of life
In whom do you place
your faith?
Who looks at you
and sees a hero
Which winds kiss
your face?
What seals your hands
together in prayer
What forces buckle
your knees?
When and where
do you bow your head
Where do you rest
when you’re weary?
Whose ears can you trust
to listen
Whose words do you take
for truth?
Whose smiles are
the sun to you
Whose voice
a lifelong echo?
A hint: instead of answers
seek wonder.
