Holding to Grace

Holding to Grace

Grace – 

A word that tumbles walls and softens the heart.  A word to hold to.

At supper, 

In temples, 

In the wilderness.  

Grace. A word to hold to, 

In the quiet, in the soul.



Silver bells and dawn’s first light.

A baby’s first cry, and a morning lark.

The feel of my eyes upon your face.



A word to calm fears

And still wild waters.

A life raft in the storm,

A beacon in the night.



The heart expanding to music.

Tears flowing in love.

Tenderness and forgiveness.

And all creation in a teacup.



An ember stoked to flame,

The dove of peace.

Beauty and freedom.

The soft breath of lips, “I love you.”



Flow and earth,

Whole and pure.



It is the end of the river when she meets the sea, in rejoicing.

The sense of coming home after painful separation.

It is melting hearts and tumbling walls.  Grace.


It is the feeling behind the words,

The ones we truly need to speak. 

What would it be to live this way?


Red Soul winking.

Head to heart.

Arms open in comfort and love.

White robed, barefooted, flower crowned, Grace.


Beneath it all – hard hearts and stone walls, She waits.  



At some point, before the last breath, they reach out to her, Grace.

Hearts softening, walls tumbling.

“We have come to the end of the evening,” She whispers as she sits by him on the bed.  

He nods his head.  She takes his hand.

He feels it then, the warmth of her fingers,

The light of her eyes,

The love in her smile.

He leans back against the pillow, eyes closing, muscles loosening, breath slowing.

Heart melting, walls tumbling.

His children sigh, and for a few moments, just a few moments, 

– Grace.


What would it be to live this way?

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