Today, as the storm Ester pours out its wet anger over our house, and there’s a flood sitting outside, rendering most immobile, my heart drifts back to that one experience that shifted my perspective. Remember this. Always, always Because
I stand afar from the ocean’s reach musing horizons past the breach for many waded long before becoming victors rising ashore barefoot, frightened, near the edge I would not jump into the bed for waters rise and waters fall and
And I remember the names of my people dearest And the time they chose to go on, flicker their little light when it was the darkest And hope that when the morning comes, they will be wide awake and welcome
There’s a sense of imbalance when life in all its bigness, shows you all your smallness. How you can’t step over mountains with your pudgy feet. You look at your toes dancing on the marbly floor. All trees have veins
I have a Tiny Letter! Please subscribe if you want me to send you (love) Letters to Strangers. I write about poems and stars and why you should keep your embers close to the heart so you will remain warm and on fire. And not alone. See you?
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