Strong Grip

Once again your big kind hand

has reached out to save me,

hoisted me above snowy ridges,

up from a self-made jail;

a self pity so deep

it looked like the only way.

Delicately you showed me

how ungrateful was that slimey place

that ignored gifts piling up everywhere:

for life, for now, for connection,

the ability to change anything about me,

for the sun, this bright snow forest,

the mistakes I’ll never repeat,

the power of the Universe in  my darling, cuddly God.

Please forgive me.  I never knew how rude

my whole life had been.

Thank you, ever faithful, beautiful enticement to joy.

You came here to fill my heart,

to press your lips to it

so their memory will always keep it warm.

Gwendalyn Gilliam, Incline Village, February 28, 2011

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Angel Dance

You are my rock.

You are my angel.

How can you be both?

You dropped in

to expand my wishing,

my dancing light

fills the sky with doves

while little sparks fire

every part of me.

I hold you smooth

in my delight.

How can I keep from unraveling

to slip beneath your skin?

Everything I could want

or dream or hope for

arrived in one package

when you knocked on my door.

Angel, dance with me.

Live with me forever.

Laugh me to the very end.

Gwendalyn Gilliam, Incline Village, Valentine’s Day, 2011

Gratitude for Breakfast

I need gratitude for breakfast,

grateful my dreams are coming true.

I need it all day long.

Before I fall asleep,

that my dreams have made it here,

no matter what things look  like.

It comes into my body,

bathes my cells in milky light,

soothes and cleans them,

cheers them up,

fluffs their pillows,  strokes their little heads,

spreads a steaming family dinner,

burns a candle in the window,

joyfully watching for love’s return,

wraps me safe and warm.

Rarely can our eyes see the truth of things.

Yet gratitude is all I need to feed my faith,

grow it into a fine young thing

that can climb a mountain,

embrace her cliffs,

laughter from her belly

echoing across ridges of eternity.

Gratitude, you are the nectar

that fuels the bees.

You hold nothing back.

I love you.

Gwendalyn Gilliam, Incline Village, NV February 12, 2011

Dating God

The nice thing about dating God

is you never have to get a divorce.

Also, with one notable exception,

you don’t get pregnant.

God thinks to send you flowers,

spreads a lovely evening meal,

makes a fine lover (once you get past

the bearded father thing),

as company for star gazing unsurpassed,

Plus, He sends you love letters

written inside your heart.

More

To be one with someone—

What does that mean?

I feel his joy,

know when he’s in pain,

blissful and complete if it looks like

he’ll be mine–

desperate if not.

I want him to miss me,

his heart pining for me,

to decide that eternal love

can outweigh a joyless sham.

To caress my cheek,

wash me in his radiance,

work his frenzied love,

poured out across my altar.

And if he’s not for me

to turn around

my ocean liner of death,

let breath begin my hobble.

It’s You, delicious Divine–

You that brought him,

You I want to feel,

Your soothing effervescence,

in, under, around and through me.

My heart in Your light,

body in your sparkle,

sliced, torn and reassembled,

You flowing gently through me,

all I am made of,

all I could ever be about.

I need more.  I need help.  I need love.

A lioness on the hunt,

I sink my teeth, devour Your kindness,

draw deeply of only, ever You.

Is that ok?  Do You mind?

Or is it attachment to crave the Divine,

and, if so, where can I go