Life comes after death.
I am tired of shedding these skins, these layers. I am tired of dying in seasons.
But then, the ground awakes, breaks forth the green shoot of seed that’s been quietly incubating in the patient soil of my soul.
Oh God, open my eyes, my heart.
You are here and with me. In death. In life. In the silent in-between.
Life. My life grows inside me. A new skin, a new heart. A new way of knowing, of being. Abundance, in full.
My lips smile, incredulous. I am softly determined to let it grow, tend it well, and give it sun.
Leave a Reply
Looking for something in particular?
Explore the archive! Organized for ease by category and year.
Visit the Archive
Add a comment
0 Comments