It is a continual process to unweave
that which is truth from story. I pull
a thread, remove one line, observe how
the fabric changes, notice the new spaces
breathing between essential threads
that remain, a skeleton of existence
until extracting the unneeded
leaves what is left, sparsely resilient
penetrable light of a future once blocked
by memories tightly woven.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2018
what you had always assumed
to be solid, now soggy sadness
water warped windows with
a view misguided, bended
memories altered the truth
will you forgive yourself
for all that was unseen before?
© Alicia Grimshaw 2018
At the station, the train of life only pauses
our illusion of control blankets nature’s causes.
Nights to days shift, and the engineer steers
rhythm of the planet moves through the years.
Cycle of no endings, wheels freely spin
untouchable by human error, solstice arrives again.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2018
Inside the conversation of contribution
my favorite place to dwell
walls like soft bubble gum that can expand
with the breath of new ideas
to watch you poke, prod, punch
a fist through the wall
on your face the surprised realization
of the awe-filled fluidity, stretched elastic
boundaries you once believed to be walls of stone.
How a soft blow, like cooling off your tea too hot
can open up a whole new room. High rounded ceilings
with space to grow into.
My favorite place to be is inside a coaching conversation listening for another’s dreams. This was a tough idea to capture in a photo. Photo Challenge: Favorite Place
Years ago I chose the RULE
24 Hours minimum, before
doing, speaking, before action
24 Hours to steep in the experience
all emotional flavors infused, allowed to cool
to sip consideration of your viewpoint
before I express my own.
My reflection on the gift of time to change our perspective. I also have a poem related to this theme up on Via Brevis today. via EDITOR’S CHOICE: Weather Forecast
rusted rails, a cage to keep others out
no second chances, a cost too great
alone in the elements, hardened by hurt
not the last turn
just a mistaken dead end sign
wonder yourself free, between the bars
look up, before you lies a light of awe
to melt your heart free.
Trust yourself. Your heart knows the way forward.
