Can you hear the river
flowing through my soul?
Can you hear the river
earth and force its toll?
Can you hear the river
drinking up the rain?
Can you hear the river
causing no one pain?
Can you hear the river
gentle stops and starts?
Can you hear the river
deep within my heart?
KD loves to be in the net. Whether it’s soccer or hockey, he’s the ultimate defenceman. Yesterday he donned goalie gear for the first time and took to the ice. With great agility he managed to look like the real thing, dropping and stopping pucks. Of course, many went through the 5 hole, but that’s to be expected. Underneath that gear was one sweaty little boy, a quarter of the size fully dressed in padding and cups.
His teammates told the real tale. “Korey is our goalie,” they said, in awe of my baby’s new status. And, “Korey is a great goalie” was heard more than once in the dressing room.
Today he played out and it confirmed for him what a mother knows instinctively.
I have a goalie.
What’s left in the dark is revealed in the light. We are lost forever if we cannot find the power within ourselves to feel another’s pain or joy. We fall within our own heartache if we foresake the closeness we so desire. The world isn’t ever the place we thought. It’s always better, but only if we believe in ourselves and our ability to create the life we want. Forever isn’t always, but it’s the closest we come to finding solid steps toward our passions. When we falter we learn. When he rejoice in our triumphs, we release a piece of ourselves, spreading it out for others to devour.
Often, the most meaningful conversations occur without a single word.
“Up this way,” he panted. “I can see the opening. We’re almost there.”
She couldn’t take another step. Sorrow filled her soul and spilled over her face. He knew that look, saw it before a million years ago. His face softened and he reached for her.
“I know you think you can’t make it, but you can. I’ve watched you climb higher mountains than this.”
He held her close, eternity washing over them. Finally she drew away.
“I can make it now, just don’t let go.”
Peeking through the curtain
the audience awaits
Feeling fearful
exhilaration wins
Watching time pass quickly
hoping for more light
Shaming insecurity
confident harmony
The sky forgives the clouds
and shares reflecting blue
I tremble deep inside
my soul emoting truth
Suffer is the day for
life will freeze exposed
Gentle is the promise
sweet mystery still
I’m notorious for beginning a book and then stopping part way through and not going back for months, but I finished one today, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. It’s about a young Shepperd who abandons his life in search of his Personal Legend. The journey takes him from Spain to Egypt and back again.
The book had been sitting in my briefcase waiting to be returned to Lilly for about a month now. It’s her favourite book and she’s one of my favourite people so you’d think I’d be kind enough to return it promptly, but I hung on because I wanted to finish it. Today, I took the bus to work. It’s the first time I’ve rode the bus in more than 20 years and I say this with some shame. You know, I kind of liked it, the bus ride. I managed to get through most of the book on the way in and made it to the third last page on the way home.
Besides feeling a little car sick from the starts, stops and fumes, it’s not a bad spot to read. I’m a people watcher though so I’m easily distracted. Fortunately, my route isn’t too busy so I had lots of room to relax and not much pulling me away.
Not sure waiting for the bus is for me though. Too much looking to the left.
Wandering lonely, waiting for word
Feeling downhearted, faking a smile
Seeing the reason, a blow to the heart
Hoping for healing, praying for rest
Moving toward something, imagined or real
Seeing myself, embracing the child
Stealing the moment, holding it close
Winning the battle, wondering lonely
I wrote this on Helium.com back in the summer, but thought I would share for a new friend. I’ve changed one word from the Helium post. Now you’ll be so curious, you’ll make me a penny by going to take a look…
Time is the cruelest master
its face you never see
it whispers soft and low
the best is yet to be
But slowly time erodes
your hopes are washed away
it laughs at you for thinking
real love is on its way
Your arid soil it crumbles
hope scatters in the stream
as tears fall soft and sullen
a new sprout becomes your dream
