on buckets and lists.

life is
like a bucket
list I suppose all our
galvanized emptiness
longing to be filled
only
to be poured out
but
that sort of surrender
requires having a handle not
on the drip
drip
and kerplunk
of time but of
what
or Who
holds you.
*
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The long exhale of a song.

Singing isn’t easy when you’re breathless from carrying the baggage of hurt or sadness on your back.

But like this old proverb says, the first step of singing is breath.

Take a deep one this morning. Hold it in, savor the coolness of the inbreaking autumn air. Then exhale gratefulness that a new day unfolds before you, another opportunity to sing, whether in the rain or the sunshine or the pain.

What song will you sing today?

Or will you be savoring that one single breath, the one that takes all your strength to muster, but the one which keeps you alive all the same?

~Selah

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patterns. a poem.

pull and push
i feel the wind fighting
unseen patterns of frigid
and warmth
ancient, invisible sky rivers
an annual
tug-of-war
as i dive under blankets
wishing for ocean waves
instead
of the frost
forever covering life
pushing and pulling
fearless
terrified
toward the sun

*****

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