I mourn
the turning of time.
Shall I clutch at the moment,
or the passing days gone by?
Or shall I be free
to stroll the fields, with you?
Free to know the wind
as an ever changing friend.
Tag: Stillness
There is a quiet, here.
My husband is away, so it’s just me and our sleeping children beneath this roof. In this room, it’s just me and my heart quietly whispering away. What is she saying? I’m not entirely sure.
She’s telling me I worry too much.
That I should remember the wind and her sweet softness. How peacefully she blows, without a thought, without a care or question.
She’s telling me she sees me. That even though, sometimes, life’s tenderness swells to the point of overflowing…I’ll always be okay. My tears could fill an ocean some days. After they fall, though, everything seems a little brighter than it did before, and a little softer, perhaps.
I do like the softness very much.
It feels like peace, it feels like calm, it feels like love.
Categories
Quiet on a Hill
I close my eyes, my foot on a chair.
Pots clang. Time flashes,
bright and loud.
Could there be just me and the stars?
Me and my hands on dry earth?
My heart glows at the thought.
And I run, and I run from the noise.
And I run and hold tight to the sweet,
sweet moments of quiet on a hill.
Exhaustion is the arrow to peace.
Peace is the home that waits for me
always.
Categories
The River and The Stone
The river is always changed
after the stone
has pierced her
still waters.
Today, there is rain.
And the most beautiful peace.
I do not want this war.
This softness, I am.
I do not want this
war.
And yet, it flows
where peace seeks to be.
And yet, aggression is
somehow,
the twisted arm
of this peaceful river.
Must we simply flow?
Categories
Forever Home
Sorrow is quiet and soft.
How strange, that during the saddest times, the quiet is the loudest voice of all.
Tonight, I send my voice into the stillness.
To honour the love and the sorrow that lingers when we lose our most precious hearts.
Quiet, the place where unconditional love floats free.
Peace. Our soft and gentle, forever home.
Peace.
It’s soft and it’s cool.
It’s free and it’s flowing.
And quiet. (Good heavens it’s quiet. I close my eyes for that one. Truly. I close my eyes.)
Peace.
It lives in the candle beside me; within this flame, still and perfect.
I drink tea alone—peace lives there.
And the wind, swaying green beyond the window: it stops me as I wander.
It brings me home.
Peace is the language that brings me home.
Peace.
It is such a beautiful thing.
And it’s funny. How long it has taken me to see its worth.
That I’ve been looking for it. That, always, it’s been mine.
If only I’d known that I needed it.
I needed it.
Peace. I need it, still.
Categories
My Own Peace
Some days,
I take a deep breath
and ask the world to soften.
The world never does soften.
So I fall behind its wind,
and I find my own
peace.
Categories
This Place of Quiet
I am here in the quiet, knowing I am home.
I am the same, in this place, as the windy trees
and the sunset that melts across the bay.
This quiet.
It is the porcelain wail of a newborn child, it is the aching
of a freshly broken heart.
I know it well.
I know this place of quiet so well.
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