I’m in the midst of Tell It, an e-course by Liz Lamoreux. Today’s prompt invited us to explore the notion of gentleness, or ‘gentle’, and what that means to us.
A hug in the right place
From the right person
Can heal old wounds
Or be salve to the fresh wounds of existence
Creates space for a truth otherwise hidden
That spills out sideways
Through the averted gaze
We each have truths that demand to be heard
Stifled through years of half-existence
Coaxed from hiding by an inner knowing
This is it, the time and the person
The place where truth will be heard and held
The heart at last humbled and healed
It could take years, or lifetimes
But eventually, it must happen.
I took a couple of days off from the challenge because nothing was flowing. I didn’t want to force anything if I weren’t truly invested in it. That said, I am back. This piece just flowed out.
Speaking of Brokenness
To be human is to be broken
And break we must
Before we witness our true nature
Divine beings in diverse Earth suits
It is our duty to seek the others
Who think they are broken
And sit with them
To draw out the Truth
In our brokenness
We are one step closer
In our wholeness,
Who we really are
There is no single atom
Which is not truly Divine.
The past nine years have been a journey of epic proportions, as they say. Fortunately, I can now glimpse the light at the end of the tunnel. This is my fourth Poem-A-Day for April, and my favourite so far. Continue reading
My third April poem-a-day.
Easing day by day into a new life
This time, I am in control
No longer ruled by moments
And memories I cannot change.
A smile comes, unbidden
It is no longer alien, nor effortful
Staring down the days
I would rather sleep through.
I bear witness to my own evolution
And surrender to the process.
Although I am loath to discuss spirituality extensively here, I am finding that the poems which I am writing have a particular bent at the moment. My second April poem-a-day follows.
I surrender to this becoming
All that I was, I still shall be
This, and much more.
Growth, a shedding of old identities
The person I used to be, the stories that were currency
I hold them close, but they chain me no longer.
Just as much as we are created beings
We create ourselves anew
With every moment, with every choice
Every time we say ‘I won’t let this define me.’
So it is – pain will not be who I am
I bow to its important work
Yet resist allowing it to claim me
For once, I am certain
I will be more.