On Souls, Storms, and Sweetgrass

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)

photo by Mark Haley on Flickr

My path, at times, is overgrown;
storms brew beneath my swirling sky.

The sweetgrass curls and turns to brush,
scrapes tender flesh as I pass by.

Air presses close to steal my breath,
as condensation primes my tears.

The heaviness pools in my heart,
distilling fading hopes to fears.

Before me, rocks hedge up the way;
far in the distance stands a tree.

There is a wall without a gate
that opens outward on the sea.

I raise my eyes and fix my gaze
upon the deep, the rolling blue.

The rocks cleave into stepping stones
and lead my weary soul to You.

∞§∞

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Let go and let God – Matthew 11:28

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Peace, My Child The Promise Moving Mountains Thine Arm Is Ample