Your picture frame needs cleaning,
your essence obscured by the grime of entropy.

Nothing will ever bring your body back,
nor will time erase your spirit,
always alive,
and sometimes glimpsed,
in grateful remembering.

There is a gift you gave,
perhaps unknowing.

In the mirror of your nurturing spirit,
I glimpsed the nurturing spirit within,
which I have always had,
but somehow forgot.

Thank you for sharing what you could,
and pointing me back to my Self,
where all I need
awaits me.

May the light you shined on my life
shine back on you, and
may the blessings you shared with me
bless you, always.

Where is that shoulder I leaned on,
those sympathetic ears?

Lingering in memory,
yet burned to dust,
which I have sifted in my fingers.

You have slipped into Spirit,
years ago,
and still I look for you.

Where will I find that loving care?
it is nowhere to be seen,
but alive, inside me.

When ego loves,
it reaches for what isn’t.

When spirit loves,
It embraces what is.

This wall you built
does not protect.

It merely separates
what was connected.

What safety is there
in your dream
of separation?

In my own dream,
I reach for you,
and feel you reach for me.

Both dreams are real;
which dream is true?

Afloat in my thoughts,
I let go, accepting.

I give in to both dreams,
trusting.

How safe it must feel,
to the wounded girl within,
to withhold your love
from those who love you,
as your father once, perhaps,
withheld his love from you.

Our love is not perfect,
nor was his,
but perhaps, one day,
you will forgive us all,
and forgive yourself,
and let that little girl
step out again,
wrapped in your own love,
to love, and be loved,
as she will.

All your opinions
of how I should live
don’t amount
to an ounce
of love.

Only in those
quiet moments
of simple acceptance
can I feel your caring,
as the real you
sees the real me.

Love is a work in progress.

Time and again,
we bang our heads
against the hard skulls
of our egos.

Sometimes the pain
sends us inward,
retreating into fear
and isolation.

And sometimes,
we reach out,
beyond safety,
beyond reason,
to embrace
what is bigger
than ourselves.

The purest love
is like fresh air to the heart.

Breathing in,
it nurtures and enlivens,
but it cannot be held.