I am home when the beautiful song of my heart is at peace.
There is nothing loud, here, nothing beyond the birds and the rippling pools of shadow on brick.
I am just me, in all of my softness.
Me, in this beautiful place, home.
I have loved tenderly, here.
I will always love tenderly.
It is raining, and I am alone.
And there is sorrow in these parts, and knowing that life is terrible and beautiful, all at the same time.
I am alive with all of that.
I am alive with the sorrow and all the quiet of all the world.
I shall drink some coffee.
I shall drink it well, and hold my cup with love.
Why,
when the road is so beautiful,
(dappled sun on white)
do these lashing tongues
slice my delicate sky, so?
I shall find a cave, as promised.
A dear and perfect home
to soothe.
And I shall cherish the broken,
never shall I fight, as they do.
They know not how their barbs sting.
Be silent and sure, my battered soul.
Silent and hopeful,
the slicing pain will end.
I made the beds as if it might be the last time.
I didn’t think, ‘Oh. Gosh. You know, I better take more care in making these beds, I might be gone by tomorrow morning.’ It wasn’t like that.
I just folded the sheets over in a way that made my hands feel one with the sheets. I folded the pyjamas and placed them on the end of the bed while watching the way my hands moved; I marvelled at how beautiful those hands looked and felt to me.
It’s the most delicious season of life, this point in time where I’m naturally going with the flow that turns planets and unfurls flowers and plants.
I am just so grateful for all that beautiful loveliness, and I really wanted to come and share some of its whimsical wind with you.
And so I say:
I hope you know you are loved, but…I hope you also know it’s okay to forget, sometimes. Forgetting makes the remembering so, so precious. Truly.
I hope you always remember mistakes are the beautiful door to the changes life has been wishing for you.
I hope you learn to forgive yourself and others, and then go and eat a massive slice of chocolate cake on a random Tuesday, just because.
And I hope you…well, maybe I’ll leave this last hope up to you.
Hope something beautiful for yourself.
I promise, this wish will bring to you the most beautiful things.
xx Brooke
When there is,
in this soft heart,
a tear for sweet love departed,
a tender wave of grief upon the shore;
where do these small hands go?
How do I hold
and kiss
and whisper
each precious ache
into wholeness, once more?
There is an apricot sun in the distance.
There is a mighty perfection
twinkling in the eye.
And so it is,
the ache shall be
here
and I shall know her.
Until I have known her eternal home.
Let me tell you
how the small things you do
are beautiful.
Let me show you this mirror,
let you reach for it in wonder.
This shine belongs to you,
do you see?
Do you see?
Yes,
you see.
I feel the truth
only because of the false.
A seeing
beyond the faces of clowns.
Play rolled in fear,
don’t you see
the squeaky carousel?
They feel the brittle bones
of life gone by
and bleed again,
but only if they see.
No.
They won’t see,
they don’t want to see.
Be anyone but the truth,
they whisper.
Be anyone
but me.
Let go.
For peace.
The wind, I think,
is peace.
The breath of the earth.
The song of the trees.
And we will bathe in her softness,
today,
and every day.
The wind, I think,
rolls all days into one.
May she catch us
and show us
the truth in her song.
She floats on the wind
as they stare.
And they will never know her
as their own.
Never see her truth
as anything other
than feathers in the garden.
Yet, she knows herself, dear.
And she knows, darling softness,
that a field of daisies
and daffodils
and dandelions waits for her
somewhere.
Where the soft things come together
at last.
brooke-cutler.com 