I am in love with good lives. People who choose happiness. The ones that walk into the sunset in peace, even when they haven't eaten- but they are full because they witnessed love. And lived to tell about it.
I crave to be the witness. The one that is told. Please speak it to me. Even in silence. Allow me the Honor of deciphering all the parts where the sun bursts thru your seems. Afford me interpretation I can apply to my own highway miles- open up my beatnick soap box and start spilling my perceptions. Let me spill the perceptions I've absorbed from the overflow of all this collective love.
I want to tell them how I've watched Refugees leave countries with the clothes on their back and their last dollars sewn into their underwear- and after a long journey of treacherous mountains and fear- crossed battle lines with smiles to be breathing. Fell into the arms of country after country that didn't really want the burden of no water to moisten such parched lips- still they smiled to see freedom.
I want to tell the story of the grandfather who walked the streets all night asking every household if they had seen his family he wasn't willing to believe were lost in the carnage of fleeing. I want to tell you he found them by morning after never doubting his love could still feel his daughters heart beating.
Pull up a seat. My love has bear witness to so many wounded who would feed the dead before sneaking a crumb of bread. Bathe the shunned before holding a mirror to their haggard, tired eyes.
I watch the joy we continue to spread. My favorite people are the ones who have NO idea how vibrant they are. They keep tending to their poetry, kilns, garden soil. Cultivate words and nurturing.
Let me tell you about the mothers who have only 4 walls to call their own still raise a Harem of Goddesses- Empowered. And Kings- with enough strength to love gently and with Service- never in need to squash the Light out of anyone.
I want to tell you that the lost find their way home. They knock on your door and in ReUnion brothers collapse into 20 years of held breath with finally sharing air from eachothers lungs.
When will we want for our brother what we have for ourselves?
I want for you to have joy in what may seem like little things. Marveling over a blowing leaf. What breeze feels like on summer skin. The amazement in the flicker of candlelight on the small of her back at 2am while you match your breath to hers and become One for the hours she is sleeping. Nevermind her fear of commitment in the morning! Our Perceptions of NOW are a choice. Steal moments. Feel water flowing thru your toes and be reminded of the promise of tomorrow. Create. ReCreate.
If I could stand up and speak on the Essence of the Humanity that wraps its arms around my side view and promises me the landscape of my life- I'd tell you that we have more moments of light than dark. Its a simple math equation. We are kissed by the Sun.
The mystics teach: The sweetness of any mystery is the duration of its unfolding. Be willing, with me, to remain in the mystery.
Bliss is in our gentle nurturing of the unknown. We have no idea how any of this will end. We just keep loving.
Ima fold up my soapbox... Pull up a seat and enjoy this view. Got so much love on my horizon... All my witness doesn't leave me much time for sleep... and besides, I have a sunrise to chase.
a lot of amy's ability to serve as a bridge for people comes from her poetic observation. as a writer, poet, coach, mother, friend and peace agent- she lives a passionate life of authentic after authentic moment that includes a spectrum of color, growth and humanity supported by Spirit.