Wednesday’s Prayer Moment: #Healingprayers #prayerworks
We go-on living, on our Mothers’ Prayers….
From time to time, the person I no longer -am has come to say goodbye. And it’s okay. I want the old me to know. I see you. Bowed head, shrinking back. Third-degree burn on your right hand. I see you. Oh! How have we grown as the years have gone on.
The scars I was carrying have no weight on who I am now. I won’t dismiss the facts. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs. And the trail of deaths runs deep.
I have come back to take you by the hand, to lead you into a glorious departure. I’m better now, as are you. The little girl in me is cheering, every scar, every wounded hole, every dark night of the soul, We are the answered prayers of treacherous nights. We are the songs of holy grail, that’s right!
it’s’ time you know,
I whispered you into that holy-goodnight,
I smiled at you, at thought of your transmission,
I played this verse in your remembrance,
a sway of nod, impermenament,
There’s a new story to hum,
off key needs a bit of tuning though,
I have a good-good feeling, doe!
in gitty-pockets like butterflies
take the wings of the morning,
I realize I am life’s unpretentious dance,
an ocean-breath on a life-time of chance
churning fragile into fragrant, woody resinous
drink from my own homemade cistern,
eternal resilient- taverns of waters,
are always flowing, always leading
My deepest desire, to sit inside
a single teardrop, to know the deepest thing from tears
manna from heaven, to fall inside,
witness the chime and bell. A tall tale of woes,
mewling, cooing, bursting little things
have you ever cried over a box of chocolates
have you ever put your best foot forward,
have you ever had a silent scream,
ball up inside fetus position,
returned -incarnations,- it be-
rain from my own soul, nana’s scent,
mascara running, leading a midnight of
stars, tangent pearls of rivers streaming
right in my own front yard. And just when you thought
you were finished, an army of one, made you surrender, wave the
white flag, shimmed you- upside down, say its’ name,
I’m crying, and I’m proud.
Poet Krissy Mosley
Can I help stretch a smile across your face
relieve a tiny spec of stress in any place
can I give you hug, a taste of gladness
hidden-treasures throughout the madness,
even if the tears must run,
let them drop the dew,
of the you -you are becoming…
and after that spit -fire
slay dragons in their sleep
even the world can’t see you coming
to pardon the weary spirit
and put your soul at ease
sooner than later
we’ll exchange our holes of grief
fletch us some sunshine
P.S. I’m here for you, until it passes
your weeping warrior💜
(digging through my family photos- my son at One years’ old, he’s 9 now)
deeply grieving, over the way it was,
church on a Sunday,
pub’s in the afternoon,
baptizing Jesus, and the things we lost
temporary-people, cut down in fields of green
temporary-socials, satisfied the touch of needs
I hate to say this..
nothing remains, nothing is promised
save the pain for a little heartache
save the tears in old used coffee cans
save the joy but let spill
over worries, even kill
over problems, gone down hill
over certain unmarked graves
waiting for the day
waiting for the new normal
if it ain’t coming,
I’m running to Jesus
finding that empty grave
lay down upon it,
be the stone that rolled away
be the cloth where is his head lay
be the dove that Christ had come
be the one that spreads good news
be the spirit after flesh
be a witness, be the hope of a small child
be the one who thrives in uncertain times
be the one who’s light still shines
there is, unconquerable hope
and it lives in you & me ~kindness sister Krissy
(me -Krissy as a kid- gotta get back to my 3rd grade stories one of these days, photo taken in 1989)
I wanna live like love’s never dying
never saying goodbye, see ya later or next time, for now our goodbye’s are getting cold
there’s a lake camping out on my eyelids – east winds, blowing
southbound and strong, I remember the smell of old writings,
I remember fear eating away at the day -we’d say goodbye,
I’m still looking for the sun in Indiana
still growing-up to be a grow up – one of these ole’ days
still love to taste dark cherries of summer
still love to daze into the dawn of the open-sun
still love to feel small against river’s rapid drums
and know home-home is never done.
kindness sister Krissy…(one day at a time)
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