home day

It has been about three weeks that I have been an outreach worker and that has been a distraction from the path of sparkling light that i was following. This golden thread (see poem) I lost it somehow and I also feel that Gods presence has dissipated too. 

I can see the trees and hear the wind as it rolls under the branches causing the leaves to be as waves.
I can see the brightening of them as the sun comes for a few moments and lifts everything.
I can hear the birds.

But i am cardboard.
My hands dry. My face flat and my heart just a messy scribble with a marker.

It is the rain beating down that awakens me.

I am tired.
I am not who I was and not yet who I will be.

Only when I am all alone can I remember my body heavily sighing out each breath. 
I breath deep but them my exhale is like a dragon puffing air. Like the smoke from dying embers just snuffed. 

Speak to me in poetry
in poetry and rainstorms

The sunshine and blue skies do nothing for me.

I read somewhere that it is healing when the outer landscape corresponds with the inner landscape.

I am acquainted with loss and grief. I have so many more tears to cry.
This is a good place to be uncertain about life. 

I am hidden away
I am close to eagles and otters

Although it is just the beginning of June. Here, it is Autumn. 
A time to curl up with a book and to be quiet with ones own thoughts.