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Retablo (2005) and photo: Michelle Berry Lane, “My Real Love” gift for my husband, Michael

Beloved, these are difficult days.
Don’t let the pain-dark flowers of cynicism
and desolation blossom within you. Open
a window and look out at the beauty.
Hold it in the palm of your hand;
raise it to your breast.

The forge of the heart transforms and purifies.
This will liberate you in a way that leaves fear behind.
Shed the skin of extraneous burdens and distractions,
Burn the husk of that molting into smoke and ash.
Every bit of the real you is needed.

Be fierce and vulnerable and unafraid to love,
even in grief. Breathe fire and release your tears.
Let them float into the potency of the sea
along with the weeping of countless others
with whom you are intertwined by luminous threads.
These ties can hoist a common sail in a changing wind.

Light your lamp and put it, brilliant, on the table.
Like the prophet, John, eat your swarming locusts and
chase them with sweet honey from a hive
rich with ingenuity and clean work.
Go into the water, come up in fire.

Gather in, shine out.
Give what is yours to this world:

All of your precious love.

Image for post
Image for post
Retablo (2005) and photo: Michelle Berry Lane, “My Real Love” gift for my husband, Michael

Teacher, writer, poet, student, earthling; theopoetic acorn chewer, intent on uncovering meaning

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