In my dreams I wake
Cherry blossoms fall like rain
On an upturned face.

I learned late last night that the mother of a student of mine had died. As my heart broke open to the challenges of navigating loss I began moving. This is what I wrote as I emerged. It is for you, Blake, and all those who walk with grace, with grief, with loss, with love as part of being in this world and of this world.
Blessings all.

“There is something pressing on me as I move, an overflowing cup of something that simply wants to be held – held strongly and deeply as the chords wrapped around it unwind. It is made up of dreams of magic, of healing, of the creative life force moving through me unencumbered. It is a whisper from the deep past as well as a beckoning into the future. The pace is steady. The pace is daily. The pace includes completion. The pace includes the poetry of my soul as it whispers to my heart enfolded in my hands:
Yes, Yes, Yes.”

The mist is like rain
Gently reminding, cleansing
A new day begins.

One thought on “Moving Dreams

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