And the swallows knelt down by the river,
Faces lifted to the sunlight 'neath their
Crippled water.
And light it echoed, Come
Home to me.
But the water filtered thin
Kept the surface of their skin. And the hollows of their
Hearts were aired thin from free.
Under sky nostalgic named,
Withered clouds that tainted shame,
In that old pride of needed to land.
Silent songs of restoration,
Nesting secrets, self abandon of the
Pain that kept them perched on that old limb.
In melatonin sleep, their dreams laid for quiet keep,
Nocturnal night they prey the promised
As they turn.
Milk and honey 'neath the water,
Break reflected in the murmur of the
Lies casting storm upon their wings.
In the dawn the tired tread,
Wait for grace of flight its stead, Resting
Safely in the shadow of free wings.
Naked spirit,
won't you come and live
Redeemed.
[This weekend hit the spiritual yummy spot. Never would I have thought I'd be
standing here today. Tall, beautiful, held by a God who set me free. Letting me move
forward in my love and feet ago. Here's to years of liberation, twelve months of being chiseled, and made beautiful like the calm after the storm. Here's to healing.]
Weekend Yummys.
Spontaneity meets Wisdom
at its finest. Tattoo.
That much needed drive. Of windows down
and Ingrid breathing. And finally some watered eyes.
Pumpkin spice latte. And a lifer.
Does it get much better?
Griffin House. Good Old War.
Giving in to time,
M
No comments:
Post a Comment