I was asked to write on new beginnings for this weeks blog post and although I had a few ideas of the directions I could go I ended up wrestling with these two simple words. This left me wondering how I might best express these thoughts and a poem emerged. I hope the questions in this short poem and the overall prose will help you see the art of taking time within new beginning seasons, for what goes around comes around and Gods cycle is one of grace.
I wonder how I will read the past from this moment?
Is it place or time or both?
Something never lost but never again to be walked.
Mine and yours and ours.
I only have the past to look back on this day, this moment, new beginning.
And now. And now. And now.
But I do get to write it anew, from a new beginning point of view.
We walked through wilderness, the place of voice, of vapor, that sits like a mirage on the desert plains.
"It's all a matter of time", the voice says, rippling like a stone of remembrance dropping in a pool of water.
We gave names to the mountains and the valleys and the hunger.
God gave them too and I wonder.
Do they sound the same? Does a harmony counter the fears that lingered?
Does a sacred past spring up like anything I could of thought of?
The names echo like sounds, like markers put on times, images and graves.
Once they were found to hold secrets, but maybe now just there to fill spaces.
As memory and melody intertwine with deep breaths and tired faces.
New beginning, you greet us, never alone but sometimes in solitude.
Piecing together the living, and weaving an idea of heaven.
The experiences full of moments go beyond a lingering pause.
Counting days with the only vision that was working.
With blind spots came a grace that cost self protection.
Salvation looks so different now and that's for our consideration.
So beginning, steeped in history
I am ready for your wisdom.
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