I’ve been kind of anxious lately, as I know many of you have been with all the heartbreaking injustices and a pandemic to boot, plus missing hugs and loved ones…well, here’s a poem for your comfort if any of you are feeling old griefs being triggered by these new griefs.
From Spending the Light by Jan Reash
Gently, tenderly, hold your face between your hands
Kiss your own face by your fingertips, even in its terribleness
Stroke it, caress it lovingly,,,as you do the injured countenance of a troubling dream
The face has been hurt, scarred, And it frightens off others who might have loved it
They miss what is beneath the ravage…the perfect infant, the natural beauty so true to itself
Precious beyond any imagined possession, In fidelity to being exactly who it is.
Salve the messiness. Listen
Sacred music swells in the distance as you finger the outline of your face
in careful appreciation.
Know your eyes without a mirror
Touch the outline of the sure, wonderful bones
Bless the contours
Intuit the centered longing for God and meaning which sighs in the very epidermis
And learn to love that which is wounded in yourself.