...Haven...

*

The other afternoon I saw the most beautiful dance of light struggle through a mottled storm cloud bruised sky.

Matilda told me it was the angels telling us we aren't alone. I believe her.

There is a goodness out there that is part of the fight, part of the struggle to keep our souls true; clarified.

I see people all around me doing their best. Loving, showing kindness, struggling to dig in the earth with their bare hands to plant little saplings.

There is love out there.

It is just a dammed river mourning for the ocean.

It is getting harder to escape the constant noise and the ever increasing expectations of the world.

It is a grasp that wrings out the joy and peace of souls.

So much is expected of us.

Let us be gentle with ourselves, and others.

As John Trudell says, "protect your spirit because this is a place where spirits get eaten."

*

 

  

 I have desired to go
       Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
    And a few lilies blow.
*

 

     
 And I have asked to be
       Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
    And out of the swing of the sea.

Gerad Manly Hopkins