There she was.
She had always been there
beneath the rubble of crumbling
life.
How sweetly the sun did shine
upon her remembrance.
Categories
Remembrance
Tag: Spiritual growth
Categories
In The Gentle Woods
It is the depths that call me here.
It is the silence
and the bells
of yesterdays wish.
Let there be now.
Let there be this walk alone
in the gentle woods.
Categories
Love and Pizza
I firmly assure you.
Love
is all
there is.
Stop mucking around
and get on with it, world.
The pizza tastes better, there.
Categories
The Stories We Tell
The stories we tell ourselves
about what life
is,
does,
means,
will make our hearts
or break our hearts.
The choice,
I suppose,
is ours.
Make, break
or both, sometimes.
If only the answer were simple.
Then again…
what is simple?
Categories
Love Kept Her
And with a smile,
she held life gone by.
And love kept her.
Love kept her,
home.
Home, at last.
And when there is sun
such as this,
and when there is beautiful drift
and swaying trees,
I see life as it is
and I know it is good.
For, the mind, I know
tells stories.
And yet
perfect truth
is this touch of fresh air.
Just another season.
Another precious season
of darling life.
Categories
Careless Life
Do not touch this softness.
I see you
angrily tearing at her bones,
leave her be.
Dear sweet, peaceful girl.
For she must rest,
she is weary,
must rest, she has been
battered and bruised
by the tentacles of careless,
careless life!
Even the most darling rose
is a work in progress.
Be the rose.
How beautiful
that she will show you the way
to freedom.
Categories
Each New End
Life is a story I tell myself.
And I daren’t tell it wrong
for fear of the unhappy ending.
But what is unhappy?
And what is an ending
if a beginning is found
on the other side
of each new end?
Categories
Messy Life
There is no need to be afraid of the
not good enough.
This weakness you perceive,
this pathetic softness you scold yourself for
compared to
she who declares herself strong.
Close your eyes.
Breathe and know this.
You are perfection
just the way you are.
For you must know this flimsy frailty
in order to recognise the goddess
who one day will rise within.
It must be.
For without this shadow
the towering goddess inside
would remain hidden to you.
Trust the journey.
Trust in the perfection
of messy life.
brooke-cutler.com 