Pushing,

Pushing,

Pushing against what does not serve,

Forms that have no life,

That restrain love’s flow.

 

There it is. Alive, happening …

Being born in spite of the frowning grayness of it all,

In spite of all that is ready to say it is not true.

 

Feel it, accept it,

Recognize it

And know it is infused with glory.

There are times to address what has no life

To acknowledge how it got there,

And that it does not serve.

To name it—

“This is a mirage

Not worthy of the love I freely gave to keep it alive.”

 

I feel it

The swelling, pregnant,

And ready for the bursting heaven

that hovers,

waiting for the time,

the perfect season to be born.

I know it because it is my spirit.

 

My heart stirs in remembrance,

And joins in the singing of a familiar song

“This is true!”

“This is life!”

“This is spring!”

Here is My spirit,

Always bringing life,

Bringing heaven

Always saying,

Welcome.

Welcome home.

Welcome home.