Eve of 42
There is a clothesline of grace I see
And hanging on it are names.
Precious souls who have given me love.
Kindred spirits who have believed.
There are stories hanging there.
Wispy, time worn and comfortable strips of cloth woven into a lifetime.
Worn thin in places.
And bright, shiny new in others
Further down the line are memories.
Sunsets over water.
Make believe and dragonflies.
Dreams of a life yet to be
that became so much more.
I could never have fashioned this...
in all my wisdom I would have left off many
of the most beautiful things...
The moments where each breath was an act of mercy
the forever broken heart
or the struggle to find light in darkness...
the pain of loving deeply
and losing much
and yet, looking at it,
there is perfect symmetry.
An artistry that goes far beyond my best attempts to be.
I would not change a thing.
I walk the distance
and I see that Time has been my friend.
I recognize myself in the pieces hanging there.
I find shelter and meaning and honesty there.
There hangs my story.
Pages read aloud for those who come behind me to hear.
Above me the skies are blue and full of promise
and below is fragrant green
and all around me there is a song.
A song of grace.
There are no promises on this clothesline for the future
except that the Hands that have held it there
strong in their resolve
to always hold the line taut.
This clothesline of grace.