The Joy



Up to the point- that I give up crying- put on lipstick- go out for breakfast- but have no breakfast-
sit in a corner- next to the window- sketch the Christmas hanging- on the window pane- silent immobile- walk back home- and look at them


The joy


realising- that I am not
moving on-
so that
the mountain

will have to

The mountain will have to- move its fat ass- walk heavy slow rhythmic thuds towards the cliff- with one last huge sigh of disappointment will have to jump into the sea- teal splashing all over the place- seaweed and sea creatures subdue it
Up to that point- I’m done with this life without you in it- and stubbornly refuse to move on

So the mountain will have to

So the mountain will have to

So the mountain will have to






What it feels like to walk tightrope blindfolded- a thought I used to dread. If there was anything I couldn’t stand in life, it was, yes was uncertainty that required patience.

I was amazed at funambulists doing amazing things I could not do. “Practice perfect” it occurred to me. What did not occurred to me is faith; protective nets and people below them watching standby if something goes wrong.

It’s not just practice.

Knowing there is a safety net to catch if you fall
Walking a tightrope of life blindfolded- patience in uncertainty
God is my safety net to catch me if I fall.

And knowing that there is a safety net while blindfolded; knowing it in the darkness, believing without seeing…

It is Faith I learned.