I love days like this.
Days of silent showers
holding only water, steam and soap.
Of frigid knuckles wrapped
around freshly mugged coffee.
Of unexposed sadness that
gets met with Perfect Love.
And this day He says to you and to me;
Set your face like flint,
Lift your eyes from every woe brought upon you.
This day, see Me most clearly
And with this lifted head invitation
I will sprout my Word in your dry earth.
On days like these,
Where every subtlety weighs heavy with sentiment,
I remember to lean in and strain my weary ear
for Faithful Mercy is gently prodding
every potential opening to Self,
even on this day.
You have nothing to prove to Me.
