Tag Archives: Napowrimo

Chipping At The Window Of Goodbye: NaPoWriMo

(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)

Resurrected Hope — praypower4today

[Note: The following is a collaboration between Krissy Mosley of Visionarie Kindness and Lori Strawn of Praypower4Today. Krissy’s words are in bold; Lori’s in regular type.] In the deep dark depths where lost things go Outside, at the bottom of ourselves three steps down before the sidewalk begins where the heartbeats are faster against the […]

Resurrected Hope — praypower4today

If you want to keep reading click the link above and experience “Hope with us”

Things I’ve taken for Granted

And just like that I’d missed another day arriving far away from my knowing. I was so busy, doing nothing, so busy running into myself, turning around in dog tails, wagging in place. Panting, with my ear touching the cold floor, that held me down for a little while. Tile, black chalked lines, this is the memorial for leisure. Nowadays, when the sun is out and I’m shut in. When the wind desires to pick me up and take me for a spin. I won’t say no,

this is the memorial… I should have said yes.

Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Pexels.com

kindness sister Krissy

A Call Of Grace

 There is a surrender under pain.

It flows gently like water.

From the cusp of shoulders to the bed of ruddy nails.

Things -forgotten. Things we left unsaid.

Made in sparkling white folds and deep dark trimmings. 

Its’ grace of the morning.

Grace that comes soflty and calling,

grace that leads me home

kindness sister Krissy