Restorative Rituals for
Meaningful Self Care
The blank page is like the blank morning sky
at 5:30 and 6:10 and 6:30.
A canvas I have seen infinite times before
and yet never like this,
never this deep shade of indigo
unfolding to grey tinged with
hints of pink and orange
until a proud blue sky emerged,
until rays of light flooded my room, and
an entire moment within a moment within a moment
was born somewhere
between the weight of sleep
and the open hopeful expanse of
one more new day.
This sun would never rise
in quite the same way, just like
these words that emerged hours later
were somehow hidden like a secret
in the sunrise and brought
a pleading urgency to stay awake
to pay close attention.
Yes, more important now than ever
to notice all of it
with a soft heart and
open eyes and gentle hands.
To both give and receive
light and touch and words
like infinite starry blessings
that hide with mischief
in the velvet night sky
before the blessing of new light.
As I enter into my 41st year, I felt a sudden desire to return here to my blog and write. It has been awhile. I have shared poems and other words on social media, and a few here as well. But, it has been some time since I have sat down to reflect, write out
For you whose light has been dimmed in an already dark world— For you whose voice has been muted in a loud screaming world— For you who feels lost in a world full of mirrors— Breathe. When every warm body is out of reach, you have the power to hold your own heart with a
Holding hands in the dark, the wash of moonlight spilling onto the sheets. A kiss on my cheek and a hug that lingers long enough to feel the solid warmth of skin and bone. The breath of a sunset sky, and the heat of thunder and lightning pouring cleansing waters from above. A singular burgundy