hands

There’s a sweet sadness,

a pure stream of blue

rippling with love and longing,

a catch in the heart,

a hitch in the breath,

hands open and empty

because of

love,

outstretched hands

palms up,

cradling sweet longing,

holding sweet space.

This is a knowing sadness,

a generous and gracious sadness,

a soft sadness,

full of memories of souls

who have flown,

a sadness relinquishing

what was never meant

to be held forever

but like a pillow

still holds the dips and curves

of one who has risen,

empty yet not empty,

traces of the one who is loved,

the sweet sadness

rippling in a pure stream of blue

that will always be.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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I have a daydream of the present moment, the now. In that dream, we stand with hands cupped before us, holding what we thought were the thorns of the past. But they’ve turned into fragrant flowers. As we cradle these flowers in our palms, something marvelous happens: the petals become wings, and with one joyful toss of our cupped hands, we send them flying away. And when we lower our hands, we realize that, in spite of everything we let go, our hands are not empty. They are full of mystery and grace and hope enough to fuel our next steps and fill our hearts with peace.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week: