Poetry
Free to be seen, no matter the past
Free to be loved completely, at last
Through painful surrender, forgiveness is mine
Though not without help from the Healer Divine
Touching our shame, ever gently and sweet
All bitterness held, through our weeping we meet
Spirit to spirit, fire burning bright
Only truth remains, only love in sight
One foot in front of the other
Carrying the heavy stones of generations past
Holding them to my breast, warmed by the sun
They begin to heal the broken places in my heart’s DNA
Dropping them one by one, feeling lighter
Yet finding there are more
Whose weighted warmth shimmer
Waiting to be held
This task is burdensome and beautiful
It asks for all of me
The privilege of choosing the easy path is not mine
This arduous journey of hope has chosen me
The healing power of water exists
in the sound of a winter snowmelt waterfall
the taste of a clear, cold mountain stream
the scent of spring rain as it unites with leaves and grass
the sight of a joyful splash through a summer puddle
the gentle touch that wipes away a fallen tear
Within this stirring of the senses—
this awakening of the soul—
lives the holiness of baptismal waters
