Something more

Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.                    

Walking among trees being stripped, the graveyard of colors at my feet,

branches above slowly being robbed, air chilling, reaching farther into me,

I can't shake the gentle dread that something more will be required,

something taken, or outgrown, requiring a reckoning of grief,

no loss God wants to save me from, no turning that I want to miss,

a coming free that will not feel like such, a birth resembling autumn's lovely death.

I know no other passage through these woods. The small path reaches out to me.

I feel my breathing, steady, slow and small. The forest turns around me as I go.

Mist rises from the farm field to the west, that slowly fills with yellow morning light.

                    Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve

__________________ Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net

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