A Blessing for Letting Go

I bless you with hands that open
under the pouring rain.

I bless you with a parchment
scraped clean, and made palimpsest ready.

I bless your old photographs,
and black and white memories.

I bless the letters you always wanted to write
to be swept up on the north wind, delivered

and the smiles long in coming
to ripple the day like tides on the shore.

I bless your soul with deep satisfaction
in the already and the not as yet.

I bless the mistakes you have made
to become for you a sage on a hill.

I bless your regrets to be your teachers
and your dreams to glow with a flame
that doesn't die out.

I bless your abundance to be generous
and your words to be good seed on the ground.

I bless your precious secrets to grow wings
and fly into the eternal light.

I bless your gifts and your talents
the hard work, and sweat of your brow.

I bless them to be taken and multiplied with always
more than enough to remain.

I bless your friendships and relationships
to oil your heritage with grace upon grace.

I bless the old conversations
to fall with leaves to the ground.

I bless you to let go of things as you
thought they would, could or should be
and surrender to ease your brow with what is.

I bless you with a celebration of wrinkles,
with the applause of a job well done.

I bless you with a laying down of what is heavy
and acceptance for what is to come.

I bless your hands to remain open
and your possessions to be weightless in your home.

I bless your palms to be willing
to receive what is on its way, a gift.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Oliver Pacas Unsplash

A Psalm of Broken Praise

Lord you have made yourself
to be my rearguard.

Your angels assign themselves
as ministers to all
who call on your name.

And I say, thank you
and the gratitude spills plenteous.

I have broken open my heart
as a vial of perfume.

I have poured the inner oil
over your feet beautiful.

I am coming through what fractures
into a greater praise.

I am entering by the gate narrow
to find a garden expanding on my sight.

I will put on shoes of the news that is good
and walk it holy into the ground

where healing herbs are bruised, the fragrance seeps,
and we are loved as we are.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Wang Xi Unsplash

Flow

Leaves have trembled
across my field of vision,
the shadows too. Is it light or dark
or a combination?

I have grown to love the shadows.
I wouldn't have it any other way.

A leaf is only ready to drop
off the tree when new seasons
call.
And then there is nothing to be done
but fall,
accept.

The water can only flow
when the rains come.
Then the debris that has collected
at the mouth, will have no choice
but to be taken by the surge,
will have no choice
but to move
out of the way.

I am in love with rivers at this time of year.
You don't have to try in any way,
the water tells the story.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Jenneth Graser (Jubilee Creek, Knysna)

Dare to Shine

You have felt for some time the pull
of simplicity.

A lowering of certain expectations
to make room for what comes.

The peeling of a shroud
of weighty obligation,
to step out like a newborn.

Switch off the lying voices loud.
Dial up on a whisper of promises.

Look at your self in the mirror.
Remove the labels they put there.

You can rearrange the territory
and prepare for what did not feel so safe before.

Take off the mask to let your skin
breathe in the fair light of day.
Reach out for help when help is needed.

No more running for cover -
You will dare to shine.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 22 Prompt - off

Artist - Dorina Costras

Listen to Beyond the window - Jason Upton

The Hidden Beauty of Boundless Faith

I have come to rest awhile
where there are no answers.
Where my questions have
dematerialized.

My eyelids are closed
under a merriment of light,
as my mind stretches into
the lake of your imagination.

Every fact man has over time
in vast libraries of knowledge attained,
cannot compare with the singular bliss
of delving fully heart, mind and soul
into mystery.

Being one with secrets
that are kept for later,
keeps me grinning on the sleeves
of my Great Father.

He invites all of his children
into the art of waiting,
where intricate learning folds
into the flesh only on
the silence of oracles.

There is territory that has
been meticulously mapped out,
and there are vast regions
as yet unexplored that head out into
mile upon mile of space.

Take my hand Abba Father.
Where I know nothing...
You may impart to me, more.

Where I think I know,
I have created for myself limitation.
Lead me into the hidden beauty
of boundless faith.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 10 Prompt - unknown

Photography - Brian Peterson

Listen to "Hidden" - Will Reagan

The Dazzling Awkward Road

There were years of preparation
for perfection.
"One day, when..."

When all the ticks mark all the boxes
and your longings are laid to rest.

When you are always in control
going where you want to go.

But, all of those plans
got wedged between diaries on shelves.

And you still make mistakes.

Take a long look into the mirror
and see...you.

Not the you you want to be
or the you you were,

But who you are now.

It is time to let go of perfection,
of should have, could have,
would have.

It is time to learn how
to be a dear friend
to yourself.

Yes, all of the fractured cracks
and fierce glowing embers have combined
to form a one-of-a-kind thing of beauty.

Art in its purest form:
imperfection in harmony
with grace in motion.

You have come upon the dazzling
awkward road towards finding yourself

Beloved.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 6 Prompt - You

Artist - Gustav Klimt

The Art of Acceptance

In quiet, quietness I hurl a stone
Into the water.
Still, the ripples
The ripples extend
As the stone sinks.

I wait at the shoreline
Until the water
Rests into a reflection
Of clouds, sky, clouds,
Until the water sleeps before me.
Until the water reflects
My body standing by the
Water, in silence.

An occasional breeze
Shimmers the surface,
But the deep is still
The deep is calm.

The stone is on the bottom
Together with the other stones
Anonymous, settled at the bottom
As though it has always been
There.

And yet quivering vibrations of
Unseen molecules within
This anonymous stone
All remember the picking up,
The being held, the moment
Of decision, the being hurled
Into the centre of these
Deep waters.

Rain, wind, snow, rivers, hail
And the water receives it all.
Evaporates a tranquil acceptance.
And after every storm,
The quiet, quietness.

J Graser