Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There was
a delicate tenderness
in the ability
and willingness
to look beyond
the surface of all
things —
to stand firmly
in my heart
in all instances —
to refuse to miss
treasures hidden
within —
to renew my vow
with each step —
to always find
the path of my
heart.
It was the continuous
quiet prayer
felt within my
heart
that led
so sweetly
to where words
couldn’t go.
And it was
the same quiet
prayer
that led me
back again.
I found my
quiet prayers
naturally led
to the most tender
place in my heart
and in every single
experience.
I found
comfort in the
gentle way
I learned to hold
and release
all that had been
too much —
allowing all the pieces
of me
to feel
the quiet prayer
of my heart.
There was
a subtle shifting,
a gentle returning to
a peace
I had once known
as the connection
with all parts
of me —
within my heart.
What seemed at first
to be a pulling away
from the world
around me
became the rippling out
and receding
of my own
quiet prayers.
Out of this
quiet prayer came
the strength
to listen to my own
inner knowing
above all else.
It resonated with
the resolve
of the mother in me
who dared to trust
her own body
over every single voice
on earth
and every bit
of conditioning
and advice —
however well meaning
or loud the chorus
of voices calling for
her to follow
or believe in
something else over her
own heart
became.
It wasn’t that she
always walked calmly.
There were times when
she just knew
to dig in her heels
and speak
(or scream) her heart —
even though there was
only a slight chance
of being heard.
It hadn’t really been
about being heard
anyway —
but the courage
to be
the peaceful, fiercely
creative and resourceful
being she came here
to be.
It hadn’t been about
being right
or beautiful
or accepted
or honored —
at least not in the way
it once seemed.
I found,
in each moment,
connection with my own
higher self —
the most gentle,
quiet prayer
just beneath the surface,
no matter what
was appearing.
Even when the world
seemed too noisy,
I found comfort
in knowing it was
still there.
Let us be quieted
just enough —
that we may
hear our own
silent prayers.
And when we
feel small,
quiet our hearts
just a little more.
Amen
I hold this
silent prayer —
for somehow prayers
just know
when to go
a different way.
Instead of going out,
they turn around
and gather in —
where speaking
becomes listening —
like praying in reverse.
I found it was
possible to reclaim
and transform
parts of my heart
the world described as
broken.
I found it was possible
to turn my attention
toward the parts
of me
that were most
healed —
while scooping up
all that was unhealed
and all that was
becoming.
It took a bit of
courage
to sneak below
my usual thinking
mind
which saw only
the surface
and mismatched
pieces.
Oh, but just below
was where I found
the sweetest treasures.
Laurie's Notes 