There is a lot of weight to be found hidden behind certain words. Weight that speaks of yearning and hope, of a greater story tearing at the encasing of a single utterance.

Forgiven

She never stopped, 

Never mistrusted the promised change.

Her forgiveness showed itself

In the way

She curled up so close for story time.

In her jumping from the higher step into

Trusting arms weakened by bad habits,

Trusting them to catch her and all her crazy.

In warm breath on the back of the neck 

When she held tight the goodnight hug.

In those warm eyes they found warm welcome, 

And they finally learned to forgive

Themselves.

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I underline in books I get to keep and often I’m torn between wanting to applaud the perfect way the author unintentionally described the mixed up corners of my life and wanting to hide from the blaring lights of center stage. 

Found 

 What a funny word you’ll find

If you’re brave enough to look

Under beds and behind little hands

Playing Peek-A-Boo.

Brave enough a hundred times more.

For once you look for it you’ll discover it wasn’t lost at all.

It was you,

Lost that is,

And the little hands playing Peek-A-Boo

Were the ones discovering

You.

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There is a poet I admire. Not for her poems I think, mostly for her heart. I feel like she understands the weight of change and the hopefulness that comes with spring, with things growing again. 

Move

Away.

Up.

Forward.

Again.

On.

Across.

It.

Over.

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She calls herself Feather Down Soul and she once said we must ‘learn to be gentle on our lungs, forgiving them in great sobs if we must.’ 

Love

“It always protects,

Always trusts,

Always hopes,

Always perseveres.

Love never fails.

But where there are prophecies,

They will cease; where there are tongues,

They will be stilled;

Where there is knowledge,

It will pass away.”

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Bear one another in love, carry them to the foot of the cross, drag them kicking and screaming if you must but do not let them go. For there will be times when the ones that always looked like poetry don’t look like it any longer and in that precious moment of the in between you get to make a choice. Let them drift into the tangle of the ‘used to be good’ or take their insecurities, their mangled hearts, their incompleteness and inabilities to the One who already knows. 

 

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