Monday, January 27, 2020

In my heart, a twisting knot of worry is releasing. Lord, I breathe out, and out. Let my tongue fall from the roof of my mouth, let my belly expand.

This stack of chores is just the list that makes up a simple day. My small and unseen garden needs weeding, watering, tending. No foreman waits to direct me and at dusk there will be no inspection.

The dawn comes like a train. Let me sit patiently on the platform. I cannot will it faster nor slower.

(Letter #1,843)