There are times when I feel more fragile than a feather,

a tender leaf among a field of brilliant wildflowers,

forgetting for a moment that I am part of the meadow.

The stars hold pieces of me,
scattered across the night.

Secrets, wishes and dreams,
confessions of a quiet heart
carried freely into the dark.

Becoming wears many forms.

There is a quiet ache flickering inside me tonight. A soft breeze makes it dance; a gust of uncertainty nearly whispers out its light.

There is a tender ache falling inside me like mist, almost imperceptible… yet I am covered just the same.

In the stillness of the night
when voices quiet, whispers cease
reach within your heart …
I will bring you peace

never in life’s history
has my presence been untrue
I stand now, and eternally …
watching over you

My sliver of hope, like the moon in all its phases, in becoming whole once again. I hope to nourish it, water it with my hearts intentions, and see it in full bloom once again.

The forest sings a thousand songs filled with wisdom collected over centuries.

And I, A solitary human with my finite heart doing all I can to hear their whispers

Even in shadow, the heart remembers how to open.

I am holding the tiniest sliver of hope like a wildflower gathered from the heart of summer.