#beyondourcontrol

Dear Rainmaker,
there are discerning days.
there are days of unknown melancholy.
and then, there are days;
days in which that clutching darkness
dances around my wandering mind, and
I question tomorrow’s dawn.

then I catch a brief smirk upon my lips
when I remember the lilies of the field.

am I sitting with flowers?
am I sitting with flowers, yet?

Fall into the coolness of
the meadow my child.
there is no grief and no madness,
however great, that darkness can consume.

My strength and My peace
shall surround you.
My light shall fill you.

Dear Heart, I love you.
lean on me, through the strength
of those that surround you.
you are loved, my beloved
CKS


We can feel helpless. We can feel hopeless. We grieve in anger, frustration, and disappointment. We pause, we breathe, we hang on until hope and love reside next to us.

I share today a poem I wrote awhile ago, and it is within a greater story and resides in Rainmaker and Flower; pray on dirty knees, my first poetry book published this last May.

I share it because I return to this poem when I am in that well of darkness, and feel quite sad and overwhelmed. When my world is spinning and nothing gets accomplished.

I have had deadlines I have not met. Responsibilities I have not lived up too, and I hope for forgiveness and more patience. When my emotions and mental capacity has weighted me down until I only hear the echo of “I am a loser. good for nothing.” and even less gets accomplished, and I hear less and less, and see less and less; and I want nothing more than to hide.

I become paralyzed in fear. everything, even my art becomes suspect, and I am paralyzed; deciding maybe I should start over; abandoned all together.

Does your world ever appear in bleak darkness? This poem is for you and for me. Let us read it together, and know you are not alone. I am not alone. And there is no darkness that light cannot overcome, that fear cannot be comforted; that grief cannot feel kindness, that love cannot find.

It is okay not to be okay. My dear friends, I ask more patience with me. I share my heart because this is what I do. I am with you. I am here in your disappointment, in your anger, frustration, grief.

I will rise again. I have no idea this path I, not alone, am on. The path you, not alone, are on.

We are together, praying as we are; our dirty knees resting in the fields of the lilies

paint much love, always.
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower

2 Comments

  1. Mmmmm! I’ve read it before but this poem is still more lovely today. Reading your posts make me feel as if we’ve spent an afternoon together, but I just realized that I’ve been remiss in telling you this–how would you know otherwise? Thank you for reminding us that we aren’t alone. We all have the same opportunities to hold each other up, and you do it so well.

    Sending love and hugs,
    Betty

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