Sand and Surf

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And Yet

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I am sure,
confident in my banked experience,
my accurate perception, and
in my ability to determine how what I see and hear interconnects with all the memories,
retained,
recalled, and
relied on to make sense of my world.
I am certain,
not arrogant, but
certain in a way that leaves no doubt that I see better than those who disagree.
And yet . . .
There are those edges, bent and distorted that don’t quite fit the narrative—
yours or mine.
There are those blurred horizons that should be clear and stable, yet they aren’t, and so
I focus on what is in front of me. I cling to what I really really know.
And yet.
There is this growing feeling that my right-side-up thinking, so contrary to yours, might not be as faultless as I think.
There is this rising conviction that my perceptions that seem so fixed, yet so apt to divide, may be more fragmented than I know, and
I may not even know what I do not know.
I see clearly, and yet . . .
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“For now [in this time of imperfection] we see in a mirror dimly [a blurred reflection, a riddle, an enigma], but then [when the time of perfection comes we will see reality] face to face.
Now I know in part [just in fragments], but then I will know fully, just as I have been fully known [by God].”
I Corinthians 13:12 (Amplified)

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When You

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When you can’t cry, or will not because your heart is hard,

I will cry for you—tears to seek the cracks, a way in.

 

When you can’t listen, I will be your ears

to hear the hope in a flower, a bird, a melody.

 

When you can’t speak, I will whisper words your heart would say

in unguarded moments, if it could crawl from beneath the dead weight.

 

When you can’t believe—when your faith lisps with fragile emptiness,

I will believe in the darkness for both of us.

When you can’t pray, I will pray.

When you can’t,

when you won’t,

I will

with hope.

 

 

 

A Now To Be Breathed

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Sights of water, washing over my thirst, giving armchair rest to frenetic thoughts and long to-do lists, and

smells surround of seaweed and brine, lifting the clinging darkness to dissolve into color and life

sounds of water lapping and crashing and yellow-legged gull calls, reaching out to grab my curious patience, so to lean closer and stay longer and

it is a now to be breathed and stored for the filled and furious days ahead.