Hold Me – Letters From The Village

Patient One McClellanville

Hold Me

Will you dance with me between the places that I go?

Embrace me in my living, hold me as I tilt the world.

Brace me in your warmth, lest I spill my all

Over the sides, while I slant and whirl

And still the spinning

Steady all the wobblels, falters, shakes and

Trembles, oh my heart

You said you would and still you do

A quarter century ago.

The puddling shows me how two are better

I see the low slung hammock reflecting in the sun and now I know

That two are better than one, for us.

The high, the real is strong and there

Its other half shines radiant from below.

Together there is beauty in reflection

Mirrored as they are.

Dance and hold me in my spinning places

Dip and dive and walk me tandem to the place of grace.

Walk me down this road of aging,

While we are still two.

Hold me, by the hand and by the heartt

Brace my soul, cup it safely in your palms,

We do not know what’s yet to come.

I only know I do not want to dance alone.

mcclellanville sunset jeremy

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Love, Grace – Letters From The Village

mcvl

After the rain came, flooding the all around, nearly enough wet to soak a soul and start the preparations for the ark. And after the rain came and all seemed grey and clouds remained and the wet and dank just hung around. And after the rain which spilled like tears and did not give way to a rainbow this day. Nor offer a break in the raging storm.

Grace appeared. She cracked the shell of cloud soaked soul. And slid her gentle fingers through the slits and slats. And Grace broke through and Love did too.

The greatest of these still remains. On the front side back side middle of a mess. Comes glorious Grace on the wings of Love. The greatest of these, the always remaining, always was guarding and watching the heart as it was breaking. Determined to show Mercy despite all  the storms.

I know as I know true Grace always stays. Tucked in the shadows or out in full view. Signing her love notes in front of our eyes. Gentle, bent low to offer her peace. Spreading her soothing balm on the weary. Glazing the gaping wounds with the mercy which heals.

And leaving her sacred and certain mark on a man.

She signs her signature, cursive calligraphy, dignified, true. And you know you’ve been touched by her peace that transcends. And you’re left with a chorus of bold amens.

And  certain are you beyond a shadow of doubt that Grace was here, that Grace did appear.

You rest in the knowing that Love will prevail and win all the wars, each battle, each fight. That Love blankets the weary, the broken and crushed. And Peace like a river washes over your soul.

And somewhere, yes somewhere she leaves her sweet signature. As simple as that. Look for her markings all over the place. As simple, as lovely as two little words. 

Don’t miss it she leaves her mark everywhere. Open your eyes and see it written so plain.

Love, Grace.

The greatest of these will always remain.

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Joining Sandra Heska King for her Still Saturdays

mcvl third lilly and vine

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Dear Henry – “Letters From The Village” – Day Two

provider two mcclellanville

A letter for my future grandchild calls him to see, calling him to be, aware, alive and grateful for the beauty in his grace-filled days.

Dearest Henry,

The squid ink squirts across the night
Sky, a canvas
Blackening, a blanket for sleepy day’s cover
And you will look up while holding my hand
To soak in a heavenly sea of delight
The pin pricked sky over Jeremy Creek
Twinkles its twinkling radiant stars
Flashing and blinking and winking at you

Cast your eyes, your chin tilted skyward
Throw out your vision as shrimpers their nets
Connect the dots with your gaze make big dipper
Then squeeze tight my hand while we gaze
At the moon,together
The man in the moon is smiling at you
Sweet Henry, sweet child
He’s smiling at me, he’s grinning at us

And one night its cuticle thin like a sliver
Cut with precision, smooth as french silk
Capture the glory now in your memory
Maker
Capture it now for tomorrow brings change
Somewhere so briefly between the waxing and waning
A thin sliver hangs graceful over our dreams
Blink and it changes, sleep and its gone.

Tomorrow when sleepy day goes down for the night
You and I will walk out to the edge of the world
The edge of the water its lapping and flapping
Bobbing the shrimper’s boats like toys in the bath
And the sky will become radiant with color
We’ll stare at the pinks, the hot and the cool ones
Right before orange blazes her brush through the sky.

And off to the heavenlies the day will retreat
To sleep beside dipper and man in the moon
The day will rest up for her glorious tomorrow
And you dear Henry will sleep awhile too
For tomorrow there are treasures and glorious discoveries
To make and unwrap, to claim and collect
Tomorrow the sea will deliver her beauties right at the feet of sleepy-head you.