to . . . a new year

to live
to see
to throw off all that hinders
to forgive
to laugh
to turn toward the light
to get better
to breathe deeper
to reclaim what has been lost

to sit down in this garden
to split the new seeds open
to hear a new song (and sing it)
to run my hands through the leaves
to tilt my face toward the sun
to become
to be still
to be.


{ s h e }













i am cautious with my hope this year because it is still so broken . . . the stitches haven't dissolved, the skin hasn't grown together yet. and while i'm handling myself with care, at the same time i want to fling myself off the cliff of this year with no regard for what may happen. what is better: a hesitant entry onto new land, or a crashing (burning) descent?

a girl in flames
falling to earth

maybe a crashing (burning) fall is what i need
to see just how wide my wingspan really is.

there: a thought that scares me. thank God for those thoughts. the day i stop thinking thoughts and dreaming dreams that call me into bravery is the day i stop living.

i wanted to include a photograph in this post that encompassed everything i'm feeling and saying, but nothing i found seemed to touch the heart of life like words could. and so here they are, only words, but they are strong and they are mine.

---she.