Life Comes Again in the Morning...

It's been a long night, a night of fears and worry, and a night, too, of reaching out, of looking for the right words, the right emotions to present.

Sometimes I'm awed at the power there is in language. Words cut, flash, wound... or they sparkle and glitter. We can hurl them, or gift someone with them; we sometimes forget they can be precious, too.

It's going to be a sleepy, lazy day. But maybe it will also be a day full of words.. I can hope. Right now.. it's everything I want.

...

There is a time when the storm has broken... when rage is spent, and fury fled...

There is a quiet, restful time, gravid with the promise of change.

There is a time... for softer whispers. For hushed tones, and small things pronounced with all the care of caresses given.

There is a time for soothing hurts, for healing poured out in a rain of sounds that washes clean the heart it touches...

There is a time... for zephyr-quiet confidences, and reassurances given that carry all the security of a mother's arms... a time for freedom, for peace, for unfettered joy, a return to infancy of the spirit.

There is a time... I am waiting.

Wondering

I'm telling stories, spinning tales... I'm creating myself anew.

I'm weaving the tapestry of my days, choosing the threads upon which my life hang.

I'm reaching for things I've only ever seen in fantasies... hoping for a glimmer of joy I've never known, unadulterated by misgivings, untainted by sorrows and cares.

I'm waiting for the cool of evening, longing for the sunset, praying for the moonrise to find me where I wish to be..

I'm remembering nights as sacred as any worship Sunday, spent in the embrace of my Mother's arms, washed clean by moonlight and rocked by water that tastes of my tears...

And I'm wondering, now, when my footsteps will lead me home.