I hold
what is here
with love,
without needing
to sort
or heal.
I hold it
as it is,
allowing space
for the natural
transformation
into something else.
Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I hold
what is here
with love,
without needing
to sort
or heal.
I hold it
as it is,
allowing space
for the natural
transformation
into something else.
Remind me how
to listen
to silence,
to be unafraid
to take in
more than I can
ever express —
to be willing
not to understand.
And when I feel I must
reflect some piece
of its wisdom,
point me back
to the silence
within my own heart.
Amen.
I have held and honored —
set it all down —
watched as it faded back
into nothing.
I have waited
as the perfect pieces
reappeared.
And I have forgotten
and pushed —
tried to make
my own inner art
into something else —
more.
I have forgotten
the importance of the holding
and remembered
as, in my frustration,
it found its own way
and revealed itself to me
again.
On the journey
into my heart,
there were words
that couldn’t be written
or shared.
With each one
came a little more
letting go
and the understanding
that it was, in fact,
in the silent spaces,
held and known
in my own heart
alone,
that I found
the deepest connection,
meaning,
and desire to continue on.
I found comfort in knowing
that the words I did write
would always find
their way back
to the silent space
from which they emerged.
I honor the place
within
where there is
nothing
to sort
or heal —
where it’s enough
to be
as I am.
I found my way
to the natural calm
within.
And though I seemed
to lose this place
for a while,
I held
each whispered prayer,
each precious piece
of a heart
that once thought
it was broken.
And in that holding,
I always returned.
I began to listen
a little more deeply
to silence,
to let go
of cluttered thoughts
a little more completely —
to turn around
and settle down
into the quiet space
within.
Love didn’t come
out of understanding
or seeking,
It came
out of my own willingness
to know true healing,
to honor all that appeared
in my deepest heart
and in the world.
I found it
in the turning around,
in meeting its unfolding
in each moment.
There was a longing
to be seen
and the need to disappear —
a wish to be
someone else
in some other place.
And there was,
just below the surface,
a quiet prayer
that always led
straight to my deepest heart
and safely back
to the place of no words.
Sometimes there were
no words.
And so I settled in
a little more deeply —
reaching through
whatever appeared
until I could remember
the emptiness —
this silent prayer.