Last winter I knew the height of all the bridges. I slept on hard surfaces in emotional beds of regret. Last winter served me lessons I couldn’t refuse.
(walking the slick streets with my face to the wind just to feel alive)
And now I’m in January with perfect vision looking back. How I grew stronger on the tile floor. How I found a gift in the darkness.
Gratitude comes quietly to lift my head. Hums a melody I know by heart. Here I’ll stand for a little while longer considering the low bridges. How they saved me with their proximity.
How they led me to this place.
…
…
Hauntingly, achingly beautiful words. Expansive, exhilaratingly beautiful image.
A look place to look forward. A good place to listen to those melodies your heart knows. A good place to soar.
And more voices seem to join mine as I go along. Thank you Grove.