The first quiet hours

The first quiet hours of the day are for me. Precious and rippling they pass hopefully, prayerfully, mightily through me. I am sitting in the before. Before the long and busy hours begin and my task list is set. Before I see my own face in any reflection.

I am here. I feel it in my hip that still aches from being stretched and then not being stretched. I feel it in My heart, whole and then empty and then whole again. I feel it in the stiffness, in the ache, in the flutter kicks of my very soul as it is lifted like a flag in the breeze. I feel it — here, this moment — claiming me and folding me into itself as I arise into the next. I hardly know that one has gone.

There is no question of belonging.

You do not make it here, to this moment, if you do not belong to it.


1 Comment

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One response to “The first quiet hours

  1. marmi2b

    This is beautiful, as you always are ❤️

    Sent from my iPhone


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