Moments unwrap heartbeats toward silence.
Tears wash now to let go of what’s then.
The gift’s mystery wears a veil of crocheted lace.
The holes open up to mirrors holding light.
There’s too much to see in any one breath.
The fragments make a picture time cannot know.
Like a jigsaw puzzle without borders, pieces
Dance in hands putting what fits together
To make a scene we cannot quite see.
There is a tree, a mountain, a sun…and a rocky
Path but the branches grow from rock and the beams
Of sunlight become pebbles on the path.
Nothing is clear. What I know does not confuse
But holds questions that question meaning.
The package is held in a box words don’t frame.
I work at whittling letters together into something
Familiar yet it all feels stranger than pain.
I make a bow of rose petals and decorate the paper
Of woven grass with stems bearing thorns.
Some things aren’t meant to be known.
Faith teases belief with crosses and clouds.
Forgiveness needs to bleed. Peace sits here,
Knowing what’s given is taken, and what’s taken,
Given….knowing time may heal all but there’s
Not enough time because the wounds don’t stop
Even when we’ve had enough, there’s always more.
Yet I bow my head and fold my hands. Grace touches
Us even when we are past feeling, even when what we know
And what we don’t tug at the roots of being and what
Comes up in sheathes of light dances in a mirror of shadows
And how we see chooses us, beyond anything life dares we believe.
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Editor: Kate Bartolotta
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July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. Mom, can I Call her Mom, Too? An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD. Jon Stewart makes first appearance since retiring—”it’s not your country.”