Whispers that come in the night
Often carry further than those in the day.
My soul and spirit lay bare as I dream.
Satan whispers lies about my body,
Incompetence
Relationships.
Residue lingering at first light
Slowing my steps to coffee and cream.
Oh that You would be my shield
Daggers with my name on them
Lining the ground, quicken my step
Into a day of promise....
Sometimes I wonder why the
basis of our friendships don’t begin in art.
What we create is a beautiful picture of
what’s in the heart, losing
any cover of what isn’t.
Why is it so hard
to reveal our souls to another, to
leave ourselves whole in the hands of the
Master.
(Golden shovel from “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop)...
