When I woke this past Easter morning, I heard songbirds calling each other for the first time this year.
Grace, Barefoot
viriditas
Green is the vision of the leaves of the trees.
Green are the lakes, still and pure.
Green are the walls,
green the gate.
Green are rose flowers before they bloom,
their thorns, red.
Green, the field where I set my heart.
My sisters washed my feet,
I am holy.
My hands are holy.
My head is holy.
Our holy lips repeat your words
Bright in the light of your Face.
In the center of all that –
Old men and our children together:
from ages past and those not yet born:
Holy. Holy. Holy.
I hold them and they hold me
Root, vine, and fruit
I am all that is created and uncreated
Sung and unspoken
Fruit of my body
Love undivided
March 27, 2016, at Easter
~ Heidi +