I was walking with Leonard The Dog earlier, all tangled up in headfuck (technical term) about feeling hopeless, defeated and angry. The struggle was, to relax where I found myself. I didn’t want to. I was trying so hard to make it into something easier to welcome, something more palatable. I tried to make a poem about it, but the poem knew what I was up to and wouldn’t cooperate. Poems, like the body, are where truth lives.
When there’s nowhere left to turn, I pray for Mercy. Often, though not always, this cracks me open so I can just put my head down, and rest in what is true. Today, my prayer took me to Leonard’s prayer… I am resting in the cradle of Mercy.
Just this.
Postcards From The Window Ledge 