Little hands carry
the decorative box
that once held carefully
wrapped treasures
Now, only tissue paper,
red and green,
remains inside
Little hands carry the pretty
box, freely offering to
each in their turn
“Here, I got this present for you.”
The same box,
once holding, now held-
The priceless treasure of
learning to give
The snowy owl sleeps
through the day,
resting her wings,
her body, her eyes
She waits until darkness
falls to take flight
What path will she take this night?
The familiar line following trees
along the river and up
into the mountains?
She knows it well
But something stirs her, gently
ruffles her feathers-Calling
her out of the familiar
and into the Valley
Not a sad place, but
a place to grow –
until once again, the sun
rises and she sleeps
If I were to write a thankful list,
It would be a list of names.
Names of those who,
through the years,
planted seeds in my heart.
My only fear is forgetting.
Though forgetting your name
would certainly not negate
any seed you planted. You are
so much more than a name.
You are shared smiles and tears.
Strong hands, reaching, so arms
can fiercely wrap around hurts
in a comforting embrace.
You are kind words,
encouraging high-fives,
and celebrating victories.
You are faces, memories
of hope, present on
the darkest of days.
You are one soul seeing
the beauty and purpose in another.
And I am thankful to have
sometimes been that other.
I am thankful for all the yous
written on the list carried in my heart.
Days when the sun and clouds
clasp hands in such a way
It is nearly impossible to
distinguish billows from blues
Sunlight, bright and warm,
shines on, around, and
through layers of clouds,
stirring imagination-
Today was such a day
After grabbing my attention,
and coaxing a smile, my
thoughts shifted to the
reason for their beauty
The simple sharing of space-
Each taking their turn to
enlighten, offer shade,
or shine a spotlight
Days when we clasp hands
In such a way, it is nearly
Impossible to distinguish
Your heart from mine
My heart seeks
A place of safety
Not to hide, but to sing
At first, quietly to myself
until deep joy
Overflows
and I can sing
out loud with
Confidence
Hearing my voice
mingling with others
none looking to
stir up conflict
but instead, each one
pursuing lasting peace
Sharing a poem from Thanksgiving, 2020.
Sentiments remain the same.
Wishing you a week of thankfulness and peace. 🧡🕊💛
Rolling flutters
of soft purples and
sweet floral aromas
call tiny tarsus
in for a landing—
Fortitude in frailty
for both Iris and Bee.
Wings excitedly buzz.
Precious nectar and
baskets of pollen are
carefully collected—
Valuable resources for
sharing and sustaining
a beautiful partnership.
Security in the hope
of their survival
across the flourishing
of each new rolling
purple flutter and
tiny buzzing bee.
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.
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
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. 😘
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
