a child of the sun

poems

change comes

when we are ready for her

(we never think we are ready)

to grasp her hand

to accept her hand

to reach for her hand

if she offers.

 

gentle breeze

sweeping and swept up

into the tangible morning light

ephemeral as it is natural

as natural as it is to take Her hand

as supernatural as it is to accept her hand

and all you are called to do

is not

Let

Go.

 

Let them say

what a miracle

to be planted

to feel the dirt on your calloused feet

to see muddiness, grittiness, dirtiness

and say brother

 

all the while

gazing up

remembering

what it is

to be

a child of the Sun

 

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