Love lives on the
periphery.
it slips about
in liquid
lithesome
ripples,
just out of
the corner of your eye,
like a shadow
or a memory
of smoke
or light.
My heart can feel it,
eager and
quickening,
pulled along a
tidal edge of
desire
and need.
I feel its
electric current
play against my skin,
moving with a
pulse-beat rhythm,
and I long to
follow,
to carry and
be carried
out to the edges,
into the corners
where love lives
and lingers
and slips in
delicate
recursive arcs
that connect
each beat
each breath
each secret and sigh.
My breath is caught
in that slipstream,
a heartbeat stutter,
filled with
shadow,
edged in light.
And there,
love finds me,
naming me-
inviting me-
urging me
to dance.
And oh!
I so long
to dance!
I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. I n the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy. If nothing else, I've learned to make a mean cup of coffee.
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