Ice in late Spring. The crocuses folded and dull.
Honesty is what allows Christ to enter and extend what is forever given. You have to work at loneliness.
The hills are slippery, the cold bracing. The dog chases something deep into the forest.
When you came to me, I recognized you instantly. The blessing we give is the blessing we receive.
Chickadees stir in barren trees. It is not you.
Morning after morning I set out for grace. Day after day I scratch at the map I was asked to leave for others.
I am the one who follows the trail as far as it goes. There is no scripture but the one we create each day in love.
We cannot bear the grace that is offered and so we call it sex, or poetry, or sister. It is not enough to say you are broken and offer a reason why.
The weight of illusion is surprisingly tangible, isn't it? Please see how undoing is not your accomplishment.
These notes allow what is finished to be over. What is new is without need.