Crossing
Across the simple meadow of my heart
stands an aging barn, older but sure,
painted red not fire engine but red
more decadent, like blood.
For years I’ve stacked my secrets
there in the loft like hay, happy now
to pitch them down to rupture and spill
so you can better understand
the choir of flesh I am.
I will do this, gladly. But first you must
cross the simple meadow of my heart.
Amazing I instagramed this. Hope you don’t mind
From: the beautiful due <comment-reply@wordpress.com> Reply-To: the beautiful due <comment+rw4tjo3p9srimj-ag_1zpq0@comment.wordpress.com> Date: Tuesday, June 4, 2013 7:07 AM To: Wendi Lord <wendi.lord@integritymusic.com> Subject: [New post] Crossing
thebeautifuldue posted: “Across the simple meadow of my heartstands an aging barn, older but sure, painted red not fire engine but red more decadent, like blood. For years I’ve stacked my secrets there in the loft like hay, happy now to pitch them down to rupture and spill so you”
Wendi, I don’t mind. Thank you!
Hello John,
I only just found your writing (your blog). It is beautiful and profound, succinct and thought-provoking. What a great style!
Thank you!
Ali in Switzerland
Hi, Ali in Switzerland. Very nice to meet you. Thanks for your words, and if I may ask – how did you find my blog?
There are wild flowers
Growing in your meadow
Yes, Nance, wild flowers indeed.
It’s been a rough week… thank you for the beauty of this meadow and the choir you generously share with us. It is a place of respite for … like any self respecting meadow should be…
My barn must be emptying into your barn and you are seeing my wildflowers, too.
Dad
Patricia said it better than I could…”a place of respite”.
I read it once and see my own feelings given voice, I read it twice and let it linger in my soul, I read it a third time and hear Christ whispering to the world…