You the rock spinning
As I focus on my breath
You have anchored me

Dear God,
I said This was about You, not me, and I meant it and I mean it and I will never not mean it.  
Love,
Lisa

dear god,

promise me that you will not always whisper to me in metaphors.

promise me that you will forgive me for the days when I didn’t read your story. I was forever noticing the beauty and promise and hope and life of all that you sing into the vast grey, but I often looked away because it all felt too brilliant for me to stare upon. I battled anger that the promises in your pages resonated with all others but not with me.

promise me that you will forgive me for the days that I did not stay, I didn’t see that it is not only your story. But your brilliance remained nonetheless -and still will.

promise me that my free will can always be mine and mine alone and that you will trust me with it because you know that I have the capacity to make right decisions and take right action.

promise me that you will not always whisper to me in metaphors.

in peace,
lisa

Since before your birth
Both a slave and a master
Of all your senses
****
You hear what’s silent
Then with perfect pitch impart
Sweet somethings Daily
****
Eyes led by the heart
Look both far away and near
And see hidden things
****
Tactile sensations
To the skin and to the soul
At times overwhelm
****
The flavor of life
Savored first by tongue and then
Shared through blessed words
****
Scents lead and prompt you
To sniff and cause big trouble
And that’s so way cool

Chasing sunrises
Taxed by dark and sleepless nights
Still I am compelled