I don’t want to leave.
But leaving is
part of living.
A visit to my
childhood home,
means leaving my
current home.
Not a permanent
leaving, only a
temporary absence.
But that visit,
sweet as it may be,
adds to my collection
of memories.
An album already full
to overflowing.
That’s the beauty
and the heartache.
A lingering hug
that says Stay awhile–
No way of knowing when
we will have another.
Tag: love
Proof of Living
My hands are beginning
to remind me of Mom’s-
Her hands remind me
of Grandma’s
Skin grows thinner
Simple bruises turn
unreasonably large and
take longer to heal
But wear and tear is
proof of living life
to its fullest, right?
And our hands serve as
an extension of our hearts
When my fists unclench
Anger is easily released
When my hand lingers,
gently holding yours,
hurts quickly disappear
An excess of love
and kindness
graciously offered
as precious proof
A beautiful paradox-
Strength in weakness
Renewal
A swath of deep, dark
purple appeared, the
top layer of sunrise,
oranges and golds
rising underneath.
The horizon, their
steady starting line.
The nearby Morning Star
inscribed words of comfort
in silver lettering across the layers.
Here I am. You are not alone.
Words I have received,
written down, and shared
on many occasions.
But today, for a moment,
It felt as though I was
receiving them for the first time.
Why these words this morning?
Perhaps to reinforce a truth
experienced in recent days
as a renewed promise.
Even when all is not well,
You will be okay
Enjoying a few days in Chicago. My first visit! Grateful for time away with the guy pictured below. 😘
Tell Someone
A tightening in the
center of my chest
A knot in my gut
Breathe
A few moments of relief
And then with no warning
A tightening in the
center of my chest
A knot in my gut-
Add in a little race
between my pulse
and my thoughts-
Breathe deeper
Take a drink of water
Tell someone how I’m feeling
The cycle may continue
a little longer
but I’m no longer
circling it alone
I often speak of writing as a type of therapy. I’m able to get feelings on paper without speaking the words.
I have not written about anxiety and depression in a while. But today was tough. Anxiety was knocking down the door.
If you happen to also be there, you are not alone.
Much love,
Kelley
Simply Sunday
Graceful arms propel her forward
Legs gently float behind
Feet periodically kick-
Not forceful, only enough
to maintain momentum
Where is she heading?
Storm clouds line the horizon
She’s passed through them before
Impossible to avoid-
And time, impossible to control
The bright sun warms her face
Grace holds her heart
Mercy lifts her soul
Momentum is maintained
Perhaps the question is not
where she is headed
but instead, how she
sustains a spirit of peace
Saying Thank You
A gaggle of geese
flying overhead in
perfect formation
A formation of clouds
branching out across
the sky at sunrise
The branches of a tree
securely holding leaves
until their time to fall
Your hand holding mine
filling the empty spaces
between my fingers
Images comparable
in angle and purpose-
open and strong
Unexpected gifts
healing my heart
with their presence
Fingerprints
From our very first reach,
we leave lasting imprints
Tiny fingers, tiny toes
unaware of the enduring
impact engraved on
all who hold us close
Choice eventually becomes
part of the equation-
Deciding if what we leave behind
is positive, helpful, encouraging,
or cynical, hurtful, disheartening
Each imprint is personal
an identifying set of
lines and ridges
creating a pattern-
Sacred responsibility
held in every touch
I saw such a fingerprint
in the afternoon clouds-
Lines and ridges
creating a pattern
belonging to the one
who holds the sky
Birds
I picture them perched
along electric wires
carefully watching
as we pass by.
I wonder what they think of us?
Are their conversations more
logical than ours? Friendlier?
They sing such sweet melodies.
Yes, they also squawk
and screech, but for a
purpose-imminent danger
or a particular need.
I can hear them now
calling each other
back and forth across
the yard, tree to tree.
Hey there! Will you fly over for a visit?
Sure! Let me finish feeding the babies.
I gathered some extra twigs to bring you!
Thank you! See you soon!
Perhaps we could learn
from the birds if we
intentionally listen
and quietly observe.
Perhaps we could learn
from each other
the exact same way…
Plain Sight
He sits cross-legged
in the middle of the sidewalk
A tan coat, dirty and worn,
the final layer of protection
over all his belongings
all of his belongings
Hands in pockets
Hood over head
Shoulders hunched
Hidden in plain sight
Foolishness claims he
chose this lifestyle
That throwing away
His belongings will
magically clean
up the streets
Instead, this demolition
paves a dangerous path
toward ignoring our
responsibility to love,
no matter what
A dangerous path
whitewashed as a
much-improved scene,
until close observation
reveals the truth
Someone’s son helplessly
sits in the middle of the sidewalk
Hands in pockets
Hood over head
Shoulders hunched
Hidden in plain sight
First Few Notes
Like an old friend
whose gentle voice
immediately fills your soul
so is the song whose first few notes
gently pull you into a familiar embrace
Tears and smiles
grapple for their rightful
place in an emotional response
before finally acknowledging the
intention was always to coexist
Working together
they plant melodic lines
and poetic lyrics deep inside
the heart of the youngest listener-
at first, unaware of their influence
Roots grow, weaving in,
out, and around the decisions
and experiences of life, creating
a sweet, pliable core of awareness
always ready for another listen
And then one day…
A familiar chord
A long-fade ending
like a trusted friend
offers a lingering sense of sweet
acceptance…a hopeful see you again soon
Kelley Morris, piano
Piano Girl 