It is enough for me, the breeze today. To let it waft over me, and with it, bring a strength.
Beauty and curiosity, like a bleached-comb Cardinal, often ride on such air. This morning, though, wisdom arrived.
This morning, the wind asked for my resolve: A halt to crying over others’ big promises and small feet. The stop to the bruises I allow.
A decision that I am enough. The God who created me said so.
This weekend, a storm of understanding is predicted. An Eastern Bluebird cannot be far behind.
In the green, green grass
Where we all wish to be
A smiling, warm shoulder
Honest and timeless
The snare of sin
And proper loneliness thereafter
Wait. That’s just me
Hearts, free…exploding!
But wouldn’t it have been fine
This Someday, with you?
Announce yourself
Unannounced, if need be
Unlike your father before you
Who never arrived
Announced
Unannounced
Or otherwise
“It is full,” I say
when I look at the empty.
It is full. I say.
In hope, or pain
Or hope-filled pain
Or hope that the pain will go to hell
We walk forward
This body
The nonsense
It suffers
Oh
Keep your kisses
From my neck
Save them
Save me
Until, at last
Saturday
LisaRosier.com 