There is a sweet feeling, Pegging out the washing Watching my hands age along the line. This inner knowing Of the right way to hang the clothes. Maybe my Grandmothers are talking through me as I peg the next to the next. This pleasing practice, Embedded in my bones, Of the women, the wind, the dazzling sun. Did they have moments like this? Early morning dew in Spring? I imagine my lineage of women,peg to peg, listening to birdsong, looking at their own hands year after year. My line of coastal dwellers, Salty air, Swinging clothes in sunlight, Clothes of colours to old worn comforts. Seagulls hovering for a bit of bread, The dry lines and cold fingers, Their hands, My hands, Now look the same.
I am the Love that never dies
I am She who calls to you from whispers, sound, vibrations of the Heart.
I come in Dark and Light
In Strength and Fear
Do not fade at what comes before you
Do not bluster or storm
You are always in my Love
I am carrying your torch of Light
To guide a way for you to be open
Be present
Be in Teaching
Of the moment
Nothing evades you
Nothing withheld from you
As all love can be received
All thanks to Love
In openness
Of Divine Love
Be open
Be gracious
Of the Love that never dies
Our Holy Ones of the
White Light. I bathe in your surrounding Light
For my inner health and healing.
I acknowledge your Divine Presence
In this time of Now
And the time to come.
Gather with me and
I am truly blessed for your
Loving Presence
In Grace and Love
I thank thee All