Strong

that’s what you call me..

We’ve all been through it, who hasn’t? Age is an awareness of more than we wanted, and not enough of what we truly needed.

You knew who I was, and I wish I was still that girl. So much hope below the surface, then…

I can’t even tell you how hope lifts away into the sky, polluted and lost in the atmosphere of disappointment.

You have lived to 50, so show me the way, so I can follow, through the desert, and past it to the evergreens, and the mossy paths.

Knowing it exists, and you missed the turn-off somewhere in Arkansas, or in a gateway arch, reaching into the sky. You follow the bread crumbs back to your heart.

Or back to your hope, if it still exists in the oxygen, you breathe, the tomorrows you have yet to experience.

What is contentment? Being alone with others? Not needing in the face of not getting? A parachute of acceptance drifting from the sky, landing in a pile of dust, grounding you in reality. The knowledge that this is the way things are…

Godliness with contentment is great gain. So you sit with reality, and let it envelope your will, your hope, your purpose.

There is a tiny seed of hope, a germinating bud of possibility deep in my soul. The ground that holds it is barren and dry like a desert in my heart.

I hope for you to water it.