Her Garden of Roses

Perhaps it’s that quiet way she shows up so unexpectedly into our lives, assuring us we will rise from the ashes, giving us all we need to survive and thrive in difficult times. Her voice is fresh and soothing spring water rushing through my body and returning it to life. The only rule is don’t come back the way you left. Always return a new way. Water is something you cannot hold. Believe me, I have tried.

Maybe as she rests cloud-like above, nourishing the wheat she planted seed by seed, row by row, lit by her luminous crown, all remembering becomes forward facing, leading my attention away from the compulsion to be everywhere at once. A purifying light enters my room, softening my heart, and I have the impression that I am not alone – that there really are two of us.