Those that I love

Libraries

the homeless

the displaced 

the abandoned and forgotten

cold water in a glass with lemon that hits the back of my mouth

children's tiny voices asking questions and also, exclamations 

the high pitch sound of a cry that comes from deep within the chest because someone took your ball

the clutter of toys, books, and paper that builds effortlessly onto the table that is made for dining

everything that I have pushed away yet continues to remain despite all the changes that were made

the smell of brown paper lunch bags and how closely they relate to trees and golden grass growing in the Summer heat

And if G-d were in my mind, He'd tell me do it right or not at all

or He'd tell me to swing it this way or that or some other way flat- either way would be fine, He wouldn't mind at all

As long as I trusted in the goodness of it- all

how can I transcend this barrier that sometimes keeps me from feeling the breeze when it flows past my lover's smile to me

the same barrier that makes me question his love for me

forever, effortlessly

I ask daily

I sometimes become trapped in fear, holding onto past nightmares that were once a reality but now just a toiled memory 

my body holds these things, tightly- mostly in my hips and jaw 

I loosen from them each day a little more; a choice to surrender to the love He shows before me. 

A wondrous creation that I could never re-enact but one that I could only participate in and perhaps lend a hand in- a joint communion 

I loosen with each laugh, 

each act of service- outside of me 

I cannot forget these things that have shaped me, like how a river shapes it's stones that rest beside and beneath 

regardless, the water keeps -rushing- pulling through the forest rapidly with momentous efficacy

while the Earth's stones take on their shape, usually in the form of a perfect seat to cool off in 

All these things, they are all still with me and they will always be; the toiled memories

just as the water will keep rushing while the rocks are smoothed to sand 

despite these materials that lay before me and in me, I must remember that there is something more hiding beneath 

There is more to the stone, just as there is more to me than my flesh and bone 

A force that keeps my heart beating and my eyes blinking, effortlessly 

involuntarily keeping me living beyond what I have seen and more importantly beyond what I have been thinking. 
I am grateful for Him

the King of Creation 

or however you'd like to address that which is unknown yet already known beyond understanding